The rituals

The rituals of abidance

Taking a leaf from your book and weighing it between my fingers
is a task of spectacular dimensions

You abide by the narrow path between one side and another
where the mountains lie, dormant pressures

Gently alleviated,
speaking through a tube,
seeking the colour that is not perceptible
letting it flow like steam from the mantle

We exist for brief moments and then we are like vapour lifting from pages