I went to the glacier's edge,
where a blue lake lay.
In this remote place,
I sat on my pack,
and gazed out on the ice.

Why had I come here?
A question echoed on butterfly's wings
New wings born as old self dies.

My Beloved,
the lines on your face
the curving of the glacier's ice.

As my fluttering mind
stills
this quiet place begins to sing.

Ancient, primal Self.
Rhythm of Rock and Ice.
I hold a note
dissolve into that long note.

Now your body, a song,
and we are dancing,
My Beloved.

-JP Mercury
Following 3 days alone in the Garibaldi-Mamquam wilderness