The Ascetic

Everyday i go upon the mountain

Climb to the top, but i don't know what for.

It's quiet until i hear a voice from the mountain

It say's "beware of what you want...it might want you more!



Ashes...my burned hut...

But beautiful like cherries blooming from the hill

One of my patients...just before he died

And just before i left the hospital and began to travel

If he could face death so calmly, how can i face life with

So much doubt? now...i sit on the side of a mountain,

And watch the shadows slowly filling the valleys below.

But not without the doubts that still linger,

And constantly caress the edges of my shadowy interior...

At least a cathater expels impurities,

In a manner of model effeciencies. and my previous profession

Always at least offered that. fully vasectomies in clean and

Well-lit places. a sterile feel, seals from infecti[b,

But not from disease. i often wonder if i left anyone behind?

But somehow, i just can't remember. only an oddly-defined try

To find a better way. but somehow...i don't believe this is it!

I think about india, and the hindu concept of life,

To be so loved...and understand the space between reality and

Perception. and now...it seems that i live there...




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