along_petrachs_path past as we climb to the windy heights, will the sun burn through the clouds clinging to the mountain side and open our eyes to the lakes and hidden rivers below? when do the voracious_words we break apart and scatter along the path home grow roots and reach into the hungry ground below, throwing their newfound arms into the air. in the spaces_between, when sun never sets, my spirit will take flight as the birds call from the sunken hillside craters, and the beloved country weeps. at what point do we leave it all behind, and does it stay still or go on its own way? 130724 what's it to you? who go blather from