Poem: Holding a Rock

 

Holding a Rock

 

a whisper in my palm,

vestige of echoed moan,

cursed resonance

of keepsake and tryst.

 

magmata

lost to surrender, 

lost to primeval vigor, crimson-orange,

no longer aloft 

in the pulse of a planet.

 

gone 

the ache of gods,

their molten breath,

tectonic touches,

ardent outbursts

 

of metamorphic bliss--

to merge immortal, incessant, 

to incandesce--

ferocious, unmeasured,

brave.

 

 

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