You are the brighest spruce of my world,
Small by humble nature, huge by your fate.

You are the pine cone before my dawn,
What I seek and what I highly rate.

You are the tangled roots and my leaf mould,
A force in a jail, silently containing itself.

I am the fossil sleeping in the compost,
Yeilding ground to winter drowsiness.



Orogeny is the process of mountain building. The process of orogeny can take tens of millions of years and build mountains from plains or even the ocean floor.
_{read the complete article (version française ici)}



Manipulation and poem credits : me @ Fr[ÿ]soler's Corporation [Net]Work
Place : Bois Barbu - Villard de Lans
July and November 2005