Maps

mountainside stretches

far and wide

like maps laid out to dry

still wet with ink

heather and sage 

and indian paintbrushes 

trees lean above me

towers and canopies

they listen to me 

and offer no piece

and the flowers just sing

in spite of my flaws

i don't follow the cause

i won't follow your laws

i'd rather see your face

just show me your claws

meet me there

dragonflies in the air

ripples on the lake

sunlight on your hair 

that's just how i feel 

in the deep mountain air 

a thousand small rivers 

run here within

and ten thousand voices

i won't let them in

i've gotta find you 

i've gotta know

rivers are running 

to valleys below

the rocks that i'm throwing 

are sinking beneath 

to drown out the grief 

some sort of relief

and the trail unending 

just leads back to me