A mountain trail
too steep in
relentless solitude,
cautiously,
I glimpse
at the wildscape,
poised to grasp at herbal fragrance
sweating from the ambivalent sunny gusts
that snatch the air
from my parched soul, as
my harrowed body merges
with hostile crags,
slicing the painful clarity,
to reach the Pass
as the only way to outrun
the tribulations born from such waste.

My trail is cast
along this path, the only path
where neither dust nor cloud can
stop my spreading wings to a tremor
that lifts the dust of shadows
of beckoning retreat
down again, back again,
to the soft valley of Ignorance
that yearns my deprivation.

But not this time
my only time
to inhale the balm
of myrtle and curry flowers
scattered amongst the rocks,
as if,
to reassure my dismay at such starkness.

Rocks that know the secret
warmth and chill
of Change in Endurance

Grateful for this chance
my last chance
to step into the lilt of
frail whimpers
of child within,
as if,
to placate the incandescence that singes resolve.

The child that knows the secret
sweetness and gloom
of Kinship in Solitude

I flinch under a rapture of tears,
in awe,
for the compassionate warming
that cleaves the archaic basalt of meaningless fears
to wholeheartedly taste the earth,
the ocean,
the sunlight
and the stars,
scrambling,
breathless still,
I look up and
I’m there
exactly where I need to be