While mountains are crawling inward
I’m drawn to the sound and the smell.
Carefully climbing backward,
I couldn’t wait for you
to tell if the method in the madness
brought about by shadows tossed
proved strength in determination –
could move the future from the past.
Launching hopeful through the night scree,
waving torch-encrusted wings,
pouring forth with dour energy –
lending substance to the shallow things.
With movement born from a reckless past
I devour what daylight brings.
The totaled moments move at last
and the spirit in me sings.
With the freedom of creation,
and my last cast to the droning hum –
growing flush in celebration,
I embrace what I’ve become.