Mountain Wellhead

This is where God breathes! Here is the mountain wellhead that cannot believe our bodies are drenched in darkness. Drops of water burning bright like verses from holy books. Here my heart smiles at Goethe's heart, like a sun at a sun when they meet in the precipices of the universe. I was born to experience motion, to undulate like the sea in a dream, to absorb everything with my soul. What do I know of the death of the body. What of Swiss wellheads. What of this village Lauterbrunen. What of nude virgins. What of war. But my feeling I know. It keeps up stalks at the edge of a cliff. I step into the shade of a mountain wellhead that told me how after death all family relations are severed. Here love is simple, for there is no single universe. Many universes are jolted into motion. Rooms. The universes are rooms! Vanity is shut up in the rooms. And I beneath the waterfall of the worlds. Dead hands are no longer dead here. Hands grow out of the water, the blue in the sky. Sleep. Drift. Do not count the drops. The water is too good.