The Mountain

O ye gods,

Carving figures into stone

Painted faces and sky burials

Picked clean to the bone

 

The mountain chain meets

At the end of the world and climbs

The top of heaven’s seat

A sky and earth do rhyme

 

Alone upon the peak

The snows melt to the rivers

The solitude one seeks

Found here in shards and slivers

 

The spectacle below

Is distant, you’re aloof

The gaze with which you sow

Seeds wide atop this roof

 

From base to epic pinnacle

Stark beauty hard as bone

Still questing though not cynical

The mountain is your home.

2 thoughts on “The Mountain

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