Lost Wilderness

 

In the mountains, it rains.

I wander far, taking refuge

in a cave full of stars -

of myths engraved.

A place I return to

after long journeys

to listen to the skies;

A parenthesis existing

outside of time.

 

Forlorn language of wind,

is a saga, from beyond, from within.

The intimate voice of the waters is

familiar joining, endless flowing.

Roaming this lost wilderness

we can know everything:

memories, identities, loves, losses …

The deer galloping under moonlight,

delicate morning raindrops, returning,

translucent freedom.

 

Fresh streams born of thunderstorms,

wash away the echoes of mortality.

Yet nothing is ever forgotten.

In this uncharted, hidden country,

not pages of days, nor stone of eons,

could ever contain us.

 

The cool winds’ kisses, reassuring.
Concealed amidst the foliage,

I listen to the perpetual rain -

Waters murmuring, chiming,

accompany a beautiful solitude.

There is no rush, no urgent quest;

I have no family, no name, or past.

For in this lost wilderness

is a return to the before.

 

So rest here, as long as you wish -

heal all your wounds, weariness -

sleep, dream, drift …

 

Do not worry.

We shall see each other again.

Forever finds us.