A mountain likewise feels the shape of the hero
This lark that might have easily become stitched
Hidden inside itself a smile for the
Warm ground-an earth barely formed
When goodness became obscurity.
Lost in its call , tangled in the windpipes of
Irregular beasts with tearing breath
As they surround the tower
The heart aloft alone knows
What rude movement brought us to
This salty sea
To stand on the shore
amid these discarded kneeless garments
To find ourselves lost in the hero’s eye.