The Pearl in the Hill’s Lap

She walked on a floor of

White petals, a crown of

Thorns around her ankles.

Drops of blood.

Turned waterfalls puddles in

Empty vistas, finite horizons

Stretch on endlessly. Each

Step a deathless death.

Until in the desert of white roses

She came upon a hill staircase

Going up, but leading down.

She undid the crown of thorns.

Her palms bleeding, she placed

It on her head. Where it would

Lead she did not know. And so,

She climbed inside

The pearl in the hill’s lap, on an

Unknown night.