I only claim what was first mine
I, the earth upon which you trudge,
am only an observer.
From my dust your body first came
and to me your dust will return.
I am layered with time
I do not have myths or legends or memories within me,
But am layered with history, reality, and the lives of many men.
Layered within me are the bodies of all mankind,
Except four, and how could I contain
That fourth one, how could I contain my maker?
How could I, ever changing one, contain the unmoved mover?
How I miss that last one,
How I miss your voice.
Sometimes I hear the chirping of the birds
And wonder if it is you whispering.
I have heard it whispered among mortals
That he remains here still, in another form,
Disguised and veiled.
Oh that I had mortal eyes to see him again!
It has been centuries since I heard his voice.
Back then I could feel him and hear him,
and he was not like the others, he was different -
He cared for me.
I miss him
Is that the chirping of the birds
or is that you whispering?
I miss you
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