ritual no. 7

i want to know the words that make mountains move and rivers flow

i hear a voice when standing on the rocks and the voice speaks in light only and i hear it in light only and i think it’s an echo of those words

i wonder if we also hear our mother’s voice in the days before we’re born. and if we hear our names in the moments after. i wonder what light someone has spoken to me and i only heard their words so i only heard my words so the light flickered in the wind. i wonder if as children there’s even a difference between light and words but in fear of the dark we start to grow old

i think the mountains and rivers know, and that’s why they seem so familiar