Canyon

here, at the edge of the earth,

you feast your eyes

on miles of life in every direction

on billions of beings,

jagged edges of ancient rock,

textured meadows of luscious foliage

how are canyons formed?

you wonder

slowly, over time, 

or suddenly?

you imagine, 

once, long ago,

there was no canyon to be found.

until, slowly, 

the surface was made weaker and weaker

by forces deep within the earth

that hot unreachable center

and over time, painstaking, 

breaking down,

opening

an irreversible transformation

a slow death to what once was.

did the ground cry

for all that was lost?

the beloved connection?

the blissful simplicity?

or did clouds rain showers

of celebration for such a 

glorious transcendence?

for as one terrain died away

deeper layers were uncovered

more animated textures revealed

what was once buried, now basking in sunlight

held by the vast emptiness in between

you long to be broken open

you are a tree, reaching, 

reaching out for the sun

but you cling to that which must die.

all you can do now is empty out

in still reverence,

become as small and as slow as a snail

leaving a trail of your hot sticky longing

pleading that your weakness might

create a space for forces deep within

to have their way with you.