Here great forms of light and darkness,

material, immaterial, feel their way

across each other’s faces, moving blind,

cloud, mountain,

flash of blue, lake’s underwing,

a shred of deep sky caught in the rolling ground.

Broad dividing sweeps draw the eye

to the foot of the crag, steep valley’s rim,

and on, to the horizon.

This theatre is for elemental arguments

whose resolution’s never permanent.

A slung path threads immensity

flung down on either side, suspended

over gulfs of sky. Clouds forever

build worlds above the one I walk in,

for the wind to dive into, and burst apart.

Marsh flowers tremble, draw me

into worlds within. I vanish,

hidden by desire, longing to separate

into my simplest elements, water,

bitter mineral, slight sediment,

to be lost in what surrounds me. So far,

custom has pulled me back each time

to the talking world.