Pachamama

Sunlight drips down stone steps


a slow golden glow,


each ray an offering to Pachamama,


goddess of earth and breath and bone.

 

We climb in the quiet,


between the ruins

Holding breath in awe.


Bonita, someone murmurs,


yet it barely touches the truth.

 

Whoa, escapes the chest


Like a truth whispered into open sky


this place, stunning


this silence, epic


this moment, satisfying


like breath finding its way back.

 

We do not think of endings here.


How could we


with clouds draped across peaks 


like shawls on shoulders of giants,


and time itself pausing

to catch its breath.

 

Here, we are speechless


and yet somehow heard.

Awe wraps its fingers


around our imaginings.

 

Our dreams


hold us upright


in the face of something


so extraordinary


it makes the past feel alive,


the present feel eternal,


and the future expectant.

 

This is genius


Not the kind in books,

Or intricate equations

but in living boldly


loving too much,


singing loudly,


watching the sunset


without needing to know what comes after.

 

To stand at the edge of the world,


hearts bare and open,


let it all slip by unnoticed

the vast, infinite horizon.

 

Machu Pichu

Doesn’t ask for devotion

With every stone.
Every shadow

Every Fearless step

 

It earns it.