Love to the real mountain

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Where is it?
Where am I?
And when
can I take
a nap??

When I dream
I find the real mountain
hidden
in a cave.

I climb
ascending to new heights
I climb
finding freedom
I climb
and there is love
on the real mountain.

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Mountain Love

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My love for you feels like a mountain.
Slow and stable,
Strong and solid,
Dense.

It has the qualities of silence and great power.

And typically when I’ve encountered this type of power;
Particularly in a situation like ours where romance has shifted into friendship,
The intensity of this power would terrify me.

From this place of fear I would try to destroy it,
Leaving my hands bloody as you would expect if trying to squash rock with bare hands.

And there is still an entanglement I am trying to better understand.
This entanglement of an intimate sexual history and present sexual desires.
Sometimes I confuse this entanglement with the power and legitimacy of the mountain,
Although they are just vines on it’s surface.
And I know that their time is to be shorter than the time of stone.

The mountain is not going anywhere.
And I’m finally learning that my role is not to try and move it.