Pathfinder #18700 Oslo

after Fujiko Nakaya

Fog flowed in a continuous river through the trees. 
Inside the river, a little light.
Light trapped in gray smoke, beckoning. It was the sun, caught

inside the leaves. It was the sun, caught inside a question.
I stepped into it. After all, it was an invitation 
for transformation

and I was no longer interested in anything else.
Slowly, my hair began to drip
from the steam. I reached for the edge

of the cliff dropping to the sea. Instead of eternity, 
I came up with a handful of heather.
I could feel the stars beginning.

Their soft spindles. Their masculine streak.