I had always been ecstatic because I read that exchange over and again only for her to collate it and it blended perfectly with what we had written. I am glad that it worked out so well. We would do another…that’s a promise, but how soon, I cannot tell. There is beauty in the universe and someone’s got to paint it one layer at a time though we all contribute our quota to make it beautiful.
Here a mountain rises,
a woman draped in robes of flowing green
above a valley carved by giants at play,
and boulders tossed in some wild game.
Did they carve their runic names in coombs and craters,
wield hammer and water, riveting sea
to land with glittering fjords?
Here a sandline, spiked with desert-parched rocks,
runs doggedly miles, merging seamlessly with the sky
in rainbow strata, bright as the spread wings of bird-myth.
Wings spread and water pours, endless waterfalls,
emptying mountainous giant bellies,
spouting river cords, binding sea, land, mountain, desert
and the creatures of myth, mountain and sky.
All with roots delve deep in the ocean,
where sea caves echo with the clamour of stories,
the builders of the earth’s foundations,
digging, carving, shaping sea images,
purple as mussel shells glowing with pearl light,
echoing with the sad song of doomed whales,
then rising on monstrous tides,
soaring on phoenix wings above rainbow cliffs
and the still, craggy face of the mountain woman and her flowing
waterfall of greenery—nature, calm and chaos,
weaving the dolphin-leaping stories of earthlines.