I take a step out on your old road again
and know yes, I’ve been here before
—heard the many voices
of the many mountains
that I carried with me—
endlessly trying to return
over the dirt and ruts covering all my roads to nowhere.
I’ve wandered in unconscious verses
to the chorus of Time, wondering:
How many miles and how many roads
until I find you?
How many painted caverns of despair
to explore and destroy?
How many monoliths and temples?
How many prostrations and Sun Salutations?
How many Moons?
How to know what the creul Sun means
when it speaks its Fire
and I hear it in the Rain?
How to love
How to breath
and feel the truth it tones
How to go somewhere,
Now I am here
on your old path again
wondering how joy just springs up from nothing
like the mountain rising to greet the empty sky
like the one hand clapping
like the red leaves melting in my mind
like the clock’s tic-toc talk allatonce
always finding you
with that nothing.
I praise you.
is as if it is my own child,
growing and beautiful
sometimes shattered and trembling
sometimes so difficult
but I love it, nonetheless.
One day I will name you
and whisper loudly to the mountains
that you are the path and the way
and I your traveler.
I take a step out
on your old road, again.