The earth, as her lover

 Monumental giants hug the earth with a steadfast anchor
that bolts strength into the ground. Their plateaus are faces
of ancient chiefs calling, upon the servitude of warriors,
puffing smoke signals high into the atmosphere
of pink and purple sky.

These castles are a vortex,
along with fears down the crevasses
of earth so that it ceases,
to interfere with souls ascent to the stars.

The ancient souls in the rocks of ages
continue to ask me to claim my right,
to accept the calling of nature,
to be one of the Earth, as her child,
as her mother, as the earth herself, as her lover.
To listen closely to the romance, and climb.

I counterbalance between hands and feet
scaling up the side of the cliff.
250 foot climb with a 6% grade and circular footholes
perfectly fit the front side of my boot. No gear, no chains...
 Only my own strength and mantra.

I am capable.
I am strong.
I am deserving.
  
 I am balanced with the wings of my angels,
guiding by the movement through the backs of my shoulders,
hurling each motion upward and spiriling,
through space between my heart and lungs.

My feet grip the sides of the rock, clung to it
like a fledgling to the bossom of cracked earth.

Anchored to the land, amidst the play between
elder and child, heart and soul, and rock and sky.
The sandstone finds its way into grooves of my spirit,
by the weight of mere experience,eroded by weathered age.
Calcified chunks of iron protrude as I clamber with foolish feet,
 treading heavily through which I once thought to be mud.

Each move I make, brings me closer to the understanding
 that I tread where rocks have stood for thousands of years.
I conquor each breath in the moment of my toiling,
forgetting my fear of death, only listening to the faint whispers
through the wind and sand that remind me
 I am a child of this earth and I am free.