Carrying the mat onto the mountain top
I Lay it down on the cold tattered ground
Laying down on it, I look into the starry night sky
As the sky stares down into me
Soon the earth and the heaven collide
A perfectly imperfect harmony they weave in and out like the threads of that mat I brought
Thoughts so loud, run silent in my mind
A witness I lay, in between the mountains and the stars

There are moments where I am helpless.
Like my mind has separated from my body,
and I watch myself fall,
unable to help.
My body is dangling over a mountain,
and no matter how many times I try to grab my own hand,
my fingers simply slip through my own like a ghost.
I sit, cross-legged and aghast, as I watch
myself plummet from the highest mountain.
And at the bottom, I watch the circle of people
surrounding my dismembered body
slowly walk away without a care.
I stare at my annihilation until my mind
stands over the edge and
gracefully dives down to join my body.

-abc

It's as if we're climbing
over mountains,
except by some cruel trick
we trek along the fault line
rather than across
and as we crest each painful saddle
there is no choice
but to slide back down the other side,
blistered, limping, starved,
and carrying too much weight,
hoping the next peak
will be the last.

Except,
it's nothing like climbing mountains,
for at least in the mountains
I can breathe.

A siren she calls me
To her I must flee
The song she sings
Such joy in me it brings
Hearing her lonely call
Standing amongst the trees she is tall
Lonely deep in her heart
I know we must never part
Cold down to the core
Until her, my heart never tore
To her I must flee
A siren she calls me
The Mountain.

Climbing a mountain on a rainy day
inspires you to embrace
the light showers that comes your way,
and humbles you down enough
to appreciate walking in the city streets
on a regular sunny day

hello there,
midnight in a stalemate hug,
you there,
flirting with the mistress of yesterday's wind,
the enraptured soul,
the solemn crowd on a bridge of flowers,
waiting for an enemy that doesn't show up,
fear is near,
dear one,
and you can taste it warm and sweet,
and what if each scar were a reminder of your good intentions,
ones you can roll between your fingers like a mala prayer bead,
and not let all they say be all you hear,
though there are sunrises you may never see in this life,
you are the mountains of clouds billowing the infinite of the all,
and you always remember to have one foot on the bedrock of the earth,
and the other on the tail of a tiger.

At the Mountains of Madness
fountains of sadness

sorrow tears
eternal fears

to the oceans dark and deep
into my lungs salt water seep

the end is nigh
tonight I die