Misty gatherings of rounded steam linger above the peaks in the distance. Burrowing animals run from the sound of my footsteps, and a golden atmosphere of light makes its way through the valley as the sun sets.
At this distance, the crashing waves sound like the whistling of the wind through the branches of the autumn bringers. I am written into the canvas.


Take it, I don't want it. Make room for my soul.
My walls will be crushed to make room.


Stop my speed, recover my mind.
Won't a place like this tear me down?
Won't a place like this tear me down into ashes of my new self?



This makes me jealous of all the trees, they are spoken to stay rooted to the ground in a place, a place of endless beauty! They've been here way too long to become part of the landscape and their offspring, they float away over the hills. If I can catch those seeds with my hands the Tigris will become engulfed in a capsule to be taken; taken away from here.


Light!? Where are you?! Come back!