The death of the explorer was kept from his mountains,
No field, no stream, no rock responded
No outcry of anger, no avalanche of tears, no tear-stained mourning
The molten lava sunset slowly curled its way between the blackened trees of the sky
A new leaf softy grew
Some strange wind inside me blew,
Desperately trying
to force a tear from my eye
Oh, earthy things are not moved by absence,
but rather touched by light,
a life of admiration, respect, devotion.
The gentleness of fascination, precision, description.
Rocks lightly covered in dew
The hollow earth inside me fractured,
Desperately trying,
to force my soul to cry
The hollow of a tree
The laughing mid-day sun
The roughness of granite
The shear beauty of remembrance.
