There are times when there are
other languages to discover.
In conversation at the top of the world,
I have selected you, unpolished quarry rock,
to converse with, touching spine and bone
on your slanted outlook of granite.
We speak of mist and shadows.
Purple orchids, Pachacuti.
Exploding Stars.
Life and death, life and death.
A llama has defecated nearby,
drawing large beetles.
An ant makes a trail like a tiny mountain climber.
In deference to solid advice.
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