hills adrift

my hands, as words steeped in silence,
reach for the limitless space in your eyes:
green hills basking in white light

wandering among those hills, I watch them
redden – breaking through, rebirthing,
but not in blood,
explosively devoured, altered by their own heat;
they, once rigidly rooted, now turn into waves

floating on ground swells of fire –

world to being

freed from old, scarred skin,
red becomes fertile grey;
the hills once more slowly solidify,
flying proudly these new times

spoken aloud, these silent words warm
my hands resting on your eyes;
I dress myself in your space: green hills
immersed in white light