About a Hike

Not a thing between we and the sky, blue sky stopping next at space, stars hidden in atmosphere, the next stop being the sun itself. We are stopping only because the mountain does. There is no higher in sight, stones to the left and sky to the right.

 

The nature of love is a passionate storm, a wind that does chill, heal, tear, heat, and beat, my arms, chest, hands, and yours; the unknown always a door.
Questions float, words are remote, feeling bathes us wordless, skin fighting skin, for harmony by means of strife, and violent lovemaking ends in peace. Deep blue sky above is release.

 

The stones offer granite temptation. I hear what they say and whisper it to you giggling, upward until level downward, climbing and descending. I am thankful for smiles unending. Unending likewise the mountains below us, horizons drift to the symmetry of chaos.
Is chaos cumulated in order and bliss? Does rocky pain end with a kiss? Are madmen wisdom's priests? Is happiness won by swimming through grief?

 

Answers are not what I'm seeking though, I trace the last of a smile on your lips, and you look back at me with a look I can't read through, eye's happy, sad, joyous blue.

All philosophy is vain, sunshine on this mountain fills my brain- cold touches on warm skin -places the wind has been. The nature of Love, seen in nature, questions still unanswered, by both of us, but did we bother to ask? Mountains and sky, not moments, all that last.