Down The Cut Goes

These waters have sliced

They have cleaved
The atoms of this mountain
I can immerse my hand
I can feel the satin
Smoothness of the cold
And yet I can extricate

I can feel the swords blade
Pass in and around my fingers
I can feel the sharpness
Of the icy cold
My blood wants to rush
Down this river
With the rest of it

I would like to be
God's blade splaying open these

Stalagmite mountains
My hand and body oils
Provide color definition
I have opened the crevasse

To the sky