How shall we start the descent
when the beauty at the summit
is too overwhelming:
the jagged rock peaks,
the beards of moss hanging on a tree,
and over there- look!
the Daraitan River
threading like a ribbon through
the looming mountains of the Sierra Madre.
I can feel the rush of the water in my veins,
I can hear the heart of the mountain
beat in mine.
We are all one, it says.
the same current runs
through our veins,
the same fire
burns in our hearts.
But if ever that day comes
When the flames cease to blaze,
I shall remember these:
The deep, deep green of the forest,
The silent wisdom of these ancient boulders
“Whenever you are lost,
the mountains will always be there
to lead you home.”
July 22, 2014