There is water.
And if you are not on it,
you are in the woods in this magic world.
Everything around me was water, stone or wood,
The horizon painted a white line.
The long runs of basalt would split the forest into two,
The Lake is lined with basalt for years together,
hemmed with tiny Jasper and tourmaline.
Sudden awe, sudden fear.
The sky was reconstructed with the constellation,
the reflection in the shallows of a river
I had never seen before,
The moon would also then go to sleep,
only awakening stars quivering among the spheres
That linked me body to body.
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