The Mountain must laugh
as it watches me flail across it,
with unrestful and impatient limbs
my vision, even, blurred by my motion
It must see all things around it with quiet tranquility
and I surely look silly, moving.
As it sits calmly with a subtly overpowering feminine energy.
And its giant heart beating beneath dirt and rock.
Ever still, it engages my fretful footsteps
in a primitive conversation
with a furtive but fluent understanding
of the simple notion that we both share a sky.
Magically, neither it nor I, will know the instruments of this exchange
the mountain will never know the thoughts it provokes in my mind
I’ll never know what I provoke in its essence with my footsteps
These two open loops of conversation unable to give feedback
Can it see my deficiencies? My inefficiencies?
Could it tell me how to move better?
Even how it would like me to travel up it?
Maybe she’s not silent at all,
maybe she’s screaming at me.
My feeble body limited to five senses,
none of which can receive her signals.
Maybe she’s wondering why I’m not listening.
the lack of a complete loop
is what pilots and perpetuates the relationship after all
And to understand each other
would rob both of us
of our mutual mystery.