At the base of the mountain
I meet a man who sells prayers.
I do not know what to wish for
so I take them all.
One for dreamless nights,
One for gentle tide.
One for locked doors,
One for shameless pride.

At the ridge that separates sky and earth
I find myself in a pond.
It asks me not
to see life a series of obstacles.
I kneel to drink,
but am offered no cup.
The water is beyond me;
I must climb further up.

At the tip of this world,
At a place I have no proof of,
I am close enough
to touch the moon.
In some versions, she descends
and I come away blessed.
In others, I just wonder
where there is to go next.