there are ripples in this rock
from where I placed my feet;
ripples in the sandstone
that radiate outward
that have always been there
that have to their name an infinite number
that have fossilized;
ripples in the sandstone.

for I have always stood here
just like this
feet placed just so
and I have generated
a fair amount of pressure
in my time.

I have always stood just here, just so
under this white and blinding pressure
of pale blue sky
and brilliant beating sun
suspended above me;
and there have never been any clouds
in that flat sky.

there is nothing but sandstone
as far as my eyes can see,
banded yellow and red and orange;
the death of a sunset
motionless under my feet.
the beating sun has burned it smooth
smooth until the horizon, but for the ripples
from where I placed my feet.

long ago, when the sandstone
was still just sand
before I counted the infinite number
I came to this land
of pale blue sky
and the sky asked me a question
in its flat thunder voice
which echoed over the mountains
that were not really there

ever since then I have stood
under the pressure of the white sun
and thought about my answer
and today I will say


and then I will move on

but there will always be
ripples in the sandstone.