Sequoia

Those words, carving out rock, chipping earth veins open,
Guiding tributaries with structured turns, edges your mind.

Ravines in forest acres, sequoia trees and endless miles,
lonely yet forever whole and present beside the river wind.

Waiting just to be undiscovered, beauty
eclipsed by convention of the split rock that houses you.

A face that now is home, rugged and eternal pure,
there stoops the falcon upon the morning dew.

But the dripping rains come filling,
Too full - the gushing waters.
And with the sound of falling sand,
runs the rivers over borders.

Breaking free and yet destroying.

The whipping winds and dead fall,
in darkness changing and reborn...
Looking forward unto reprisal
of each and every dawn.