Far and away, high over these lands,
where even the sea has learned the silence,
between sun and nonexistence,
motherly words are growing up slowly
from children’s eyes dew
unveiling snow and grass fields
stretched over earth’s songs,
encrypted piously on stone plates
deeply rooted here.
I’m listening, waiting, reaching out
to be a story page
among everything akin to me,
through its firm settled time
like an eternal fortress
built in thought.