Nature speaks all tongues,
it’s just usually spoken softly.
Like the low rumbles of rivers running in between aged rocks,
tumbling, jogging, creating paths out of obstacles.
So high, mountains reach horizons skyscrapers dream of.
Jealous of the majestic awing and oo’ing that others bestow upon it,
without effort it lasts longingly,
allowing footsteps to tread safely on its back,
humming happily at the hymns and tao readings elegantly
abiding to the power it holds.
I can feel the energy and force
half-naked,
journeying through its wet mouth just to try and connect
to what it is. It doesn’t judge, nor stare,
smiling, just to be able to witness something new,
and bound hands and drink,
Gambei,
as crisp as crystal and as free as the wind.
That’s when time really stops,
crops and stars stroke the heart,
apart from the loud inside.
Silence speaks the loudest
when our minds never get a rest.
