Towering tors were forged from
mere rubble and I mined
hollow
the ordeal of my descent.

No mind had I veered
in stealth
to the bluff while
slogging our ascent,

pulled then your unseen
ropes,
well mastered,
til you pushed me cold
as I held but one

and my plummet off eroded hills
lit it fast tied but to
our final
last setting sun. 

Blasted you yet
for ingrained
memories
spun to
stones sharp
thrown
over affected fall,

and rose
in bearish pride,
you were
the rock,
once tipped
by tides,
bared to
stand
so small. 

Cursed trail of your star faded to
onyx as the
hoax of my
feinted north unbound,

and over my first long 50 lone miles, walked lost in woeful conviction, I did so on higher ground.

While shunned sowable seeds passed as pined for over-wild growth
in unrooted dreams;

so fixed was my gaze behind uncounted divergent paths could have crossed to unimagined current streams.

Under cover of your dirt bequeathed, I laid mired in denial
six feet deep
that I ever routed a covert plan

to misdirect where blame was buried as I plotted the finite end of our saga’s circular span.

And more distance will show further still, our fault lives dead
amid the ocean dividing now two barred doors

near our hearts sunk into its chasm since our fickle feet stayed stuck pacing on separate shores.