The sound of water

falls into this hushed refuge
where I wait as time
circles back to night.
Somewhere not-here, some torrent
dilutes the silence:
bright roaring laughter
of unseen rivers surging
through a shrouded gorge.

It is beautiful
in my ears in every way:
an airborne aching.

If I threw myself
into those waters I might
dissolve into a
being of more grand
passion, of great magnitude:
uncontained by earth.
All of it—every
moment—lifted out of this
separate sadness—this exhausted crux
conjoined and still becoming.
Apotheosis.

I could look for it,
over Yonder, there-not-here,
beyond sight or touch.
It is in my ears,
but the rustle of leaf-wind’s
quiet enfolds me.
Its susurration,
directionless and complete,
sings a chorus with the stream
babbling at my feet.

~

Author: Laura Clayton

Images: Flickr/Katia Romanova   //     Pixoto/Benjamin Lehman

Editors: Erin Lawson; Katarina Tavčar