POETRY: The Sound of Mountains

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

As in,

the mountain will never know the thoughts it provokes in my mind

Just as,

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.

Perhaps though,

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.