Below the exalted peaks of a mountain is its root.
Plunging down and down,
below the last stand of the tree line.
Your spirit abrades as it
Rumbles across the scree
Deep into the replenishing pores of bedrock.
Every one you know is an incarnation
Of you.
There are not seven billion people on this earth,
There is just One –
Over and over…
and over again.
It’s you who make the company to solitude
So… are you a friend or foe of silence.
