descending into a green void
leaving the body

the smell of eucalypt, burnt hickory,
a blackened trunk of a tree
blocking the path,
brings the body back

the granite, impregnable,
pregnant with unknowable histories,
its stark contours against an indelible sky,
ancient as darkness,
gracious as light

delirious ferns rejoice in the charred ground,
clapsticks beat a hallowed path
through suspended air