On a high moonlit mountain
they lay a child counting the beads
of heaven against the dark silk curtain.

Overlooking the deep black see, a reflection of
one in need, scattering its image under the moon
among the soft weeds.

like a page turnover, nature turns around
on each on every stone, the drops of rain
was sound.

it harmonized its song with the wind and the waves,
all of god's creatures sheltered in the caves

the child on the mountain had no where to go, afraid
of going back in a strong ocean flow

trying to keep pace on the edge of the cliff, the wind
was rolling high, it made the cliff to shift
it washed and  carved everything in sight.

A solitude being in the dark covered sea, hands up in hope and endless
desperation, if the cliff falls and everything will cease.

Nature paused at this un-intention, life passed like the storms and waters calm. Years go by and the child returns to the cliff  in dreams and hopes a new change what if?