Weather-worn granite,
Hard as time itself.
Strata 'pon strata
Endless eons stretch out,
Cast across distant far-flung moors
Like discarded children's toys.
Setting suns, infinite rises.
Crag-sheltered shelters
Now thrice-centuried void,
Gaze upon reservoirs
Night-blue and gold
As grateful heather
Dances to my
Companion's
Breath.
Dedicated to the memory of a dear friend.
You opened my heart.
© J.J. Bardsley - The Dharma Farmer 2014
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