The pallor of white mountains
freezes the eyes,
freezes the tears,
but casts aside the doubts of the heart.
Here we are in our island of ice,
sitting with palm raised in a frozen pyramid
made from the tears of devas
that gazed upon our visage.
Where is the sight of the sun
that oscillates rainbow colors?
It is locked in the ice of our hearts
waiting to melt with the world around us.
Where is the height of the clouds?
They tower with lightning, rainbows, wind.
Together our lips vibrate
the foundation of the world
and the sky g+/ods cast their dice
into the playing field of the heart.
Randomly we rise and fall,
bizarre dreams of ice and snow
that cast their shadows on our brains.
Neurons, they turn to ice.
Our impossible world is beneath
the quicksand of the abyss,
beneath all false trees,
all worlds we freeze with the breath
of our laughter.