Faces

There's a face in every mountain
Sleeping in the premonition of the sun
Breathe out grace and calm, supine
Breathe in ammunition from your gun.

I broke the knob off on the red door
Glued it to the tomb of my enemy
And I could see me
And I could see the distant shore, crystalline
Then left and left me shivering
Because I was still Magdalene and what's more

The traffic winds through redwood forests
With it's dull gutteral chorus
How holistic thoughts did help the bears
They cut their teeth on laissez-faire 

What's more than a meditation?
Maybe a firm understanding 
Not co-reverberation
Not the on point branding

What's more than a celebration?
Or yet another landing?
Another shortcoming?
I wasn't born on vacation