I was not meant to be in this place, at this time.
Distant fields of clover and Indian grass fold
into itself as mountains rise
from the virgin earth and we are witness
to the changing landscape, to the dawn of a new era.

The relative nature of space and time
the fluctuations bring me closer and
further at the same moment to the
true being, the being within struggling
to break free struggling to catch
the first and last breath.

Which version of myself decided
this was the place for me?

Which version of myself cast
shadows across ice fields
hunkered down beneath
overhanging ice and the
first ray of light across
the crystal horizon,
the peak near?

Which place is real
and which place do I belong within?