Circling Mount Kailash
I have always imagined myself a childless man.
A man without any enduring consequence beyond myself.
Just myself. Just one man. My best, my worst.
My singular joys. My singular sorrows.
What matter if one day, no dawn?
Surely my cares would wash away.
Honestly, I always imagined myself alone.
If another, more like a cereal box illustration than real.
And if painting the room is unfinished, what difference?
No wife, not even a cat, so who’s to care, including me.
Might not wear that like a flag, nor any pride.
Yet scratch aside the sand and there’s one mask.
So am I honed of that mask or bare, one face?
And poems aren’t writ for art, but for sake of
a genuine life, a better heart. First step.
You’ll know when it reaches you.
neil reid © september 2010
Circling Mount Kailash. Just a distant second-hand participant. This high climb even to approach. The reality of that would likely be the end of me. However, listening here, my life is yet real enough, this part I’ll keep for now. More of where and why I’ll leave for another time, another page, and now mostly the words of a poem will begin. Only slight to say that looking near the face of god, truth becomes inevitable. One circle begins.