Sorrow's Survival

Morning mists clearing on tor's craggy top,
slope covered in yellowwood trees, dandelions

slabs of rock embedded at obtuse angles,
like the body of a great stone ship, sinking
into the mountain, and my pain...

like the ebb and flow of a gigantic ocean.

Boulders lean and touch, as if kissing
as path meanders through
sharp-bladed grass amidst scrub-grass soil,

strewn like the reflection of my scattered soul
searching strength in sorrow's survival.

Granite sits in clusters like past mistakes,
waking memories of fate's faked freedoms
and regrets spill in petal's breath...

a mere child in a giant's garden.

Morning ground falls away,
seeped in rapids of white-flecked fountains
as river rushes to play
in sway of sorrow's swollen hush...

and earth gives to stone again, as
strength stands straight atop pride's high peaks,
cradling blue sky between them.