Sunday, July 1, 2012


With the snail
You take the first small steps
Up the steep path
Moving slowly and deliberately
For the ascent is long
And arduous
From a distance
All is simplicity
A triangle with clouds
At its peak
But then, when closer,
The winding paths in mist
Give you pause

Slowly you go up from station to station
Reassuring yourself that others have journeyed
Though the climb is your own
You see in the distance huts for travelers
Temporary lodging at each stage

The idea of the mountain is not the mountain
Your walking stick touches rocky gravel
As you move one foot in front of the other