pink fleshy lungs expanding with each
new breath, contracting with each visible exhalation
into the smoke filled atmosphere from ten thousand
years ago and from ten thousand other lungs
being born again
in ten thousand mighty pines
full of creation
each log in the fire
burning for comfort or for laughs or for love
must split and crack
a persistent percussion playing off the pines
flames bringing warmth and sound to the
cold quiet forest
illuminating
towering furrowed pines
rough bark expanding with age
with grace and power
creating little pockets
little seams for winter's snow to settle
before falling into fire's flickering light
to make a ritual
a spectacle of dancing crystal
under foot you feel the fertile earth
in motion on the shoulders of atlas
land shifting with heavy sighs
soft soil splitting into slivers
the sea spills in and fills the streams
full of creation
hanging clouds stretch out for miles overhead
blanketing the woods and blanketing you
and your eyes upturned searching for heaven
the dark stares back
then
a break, a crease
they open up the way you have
exposing the universe
exposing your universe
bare and powerful
full of creation
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