She perched upon the cliff’s pointed edge
Staring down into a concave world
With mounds of mighty stone
Interspersed across its cratered face
Mountains, punching up from the river cut floor
Lifting in layers to crest, flat-topped,
And sigh back, dipping heat-baked toes
Into the icy riverbed.
Under her feet, a path of grass spread down
Along the cliffside in zig-zag trails,Growing into a carpet of green trees
That rolled out in a line and dropped
Into the canyon crags.
Majesty, miles from her fingertips.
He laid back on the cliff’s flattened top
Gazing up into an endless sky
With speckled spots of light
Pricking points across its midnight face
Nothingness, punctured by burning bits of life,
Stretching beyond breadth of breath or sight
And expands still, sending whispered echoes
Into the inky void.
From his eyes, a stream of light reflected upward
Into the openness, took in the moon,
Dissolving into a stream of his own starlight
And mixing with the dust
Of other, foreign worlds.
Luminescence, lightyears from his reaching hands.
And both wondered,
Not for the first time,
– s. Clark
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