I have been waiting for you so long. I have made you a cairn of stone. The night speaks to the dish that listens to the sky. It speaks in a language only the night understands. Nothing is on the ground to block your way. No vegetation, no dirt, nothing alive, only stone. And if you were to come and walk with me we would find nothing on the flat ground except an occasional small meteorite. The fog hums to the silence in a language only the fog understands. I thought I heard your voice last night. I thought you put your mouth to my ear. Your breath was as cold as stone. You said, The fog is on fire.