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[Guest guest]

If the way to Cold Mountain were

a road on some map, I'd tell you to

burn up your atlas.

If the Unfathomable could be

grasped by the mind that reads signs,

it wouldn't be the Unfathomable.

Whatever you know you kill.

The world is a great cemetery, piled

high with the corpses of knowledge.

Picking through pockets of rotting dead,

hoping to find bits of finger jewelry –

pause for a moment and

look at your hands, forged in the

womb of your mother.

Contemplate their original source,

before even she herself was born.

Then, when dawn's golden light transforms

every graveyard to a jewel-like garden,

raise those hands to the blazing sky and

clap and praise your heart out!

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

b