You're walking
I'm waiting
And soon we'll be here, now.
Your heavy feet
My heavy eyes
And our eyes will meet
And my lips will bow
In a smile

Um I wasn't done writing that.
said the girl with the eyes somewhere above her chest and the hair as black as *****.

There you'll be
Waiting for me
Down on your knee
There you'll be

*Yes

Will the vibrations my footfalls make - make a difference?
Will they leave anything behind for the bugs and the rats in the ground?
The grit -
What will be left where my footprints sit?
Scuffs, scratches -
Or maybe I'll make the ground smooth where I walk
When I talk -
Do my words matter?
Will the things I say shatter -
Or create something new?
Will I leave a trail -
Or will I simply make a trail for someone else?
Does my foot tapping -
To other people's art -
Count as my own?
Or am I just a collection of reactions?
Unable to make others react?

Other people play piano
Other people sing
I can't do either
I can't do nothing
I can't do a single thing

Other people paint a picture
Other people dance
I've tried, I've failed
I can't do nothing

But I can't just do nothing anymore

Buried in sand
Inhaling, shaking
Tense embrace lulls me
You hold me
And forever
I feel Held.

I proposed to myself tonight
And fell asleep in your clothes
The fan blades hum a harmony
To the breathing in my dreams

The Hiker reaches the foot of the mountain
And pulls out his map,
Laden with a golden path in lemniscates  
Knowing where he is to go
For he had known this since he set foot out
His door.

Day by day he scales a piece of the mountain
Face, lacking not skill, but
Having patience, knowing the safe and
Prosperous journey is the
Patient one, the one whose tree of meaning
Is rooted in passion, the passion
To wait.

The Hiker fears not the delay of the summit
For the summit is already his,
Her hand his bride, for it is known in the
Hikers name who he is meant for:
The Summit, forever and for always.