Rice Paper Summit

Suddenly, from the end of your brush, an ink dappled mountain stood before us. At its base was a humble yellow door, which we entered because it gave us permission. A stand of birch trees serenading us, as we sprawled in a meadow of prayer wheels and stream lust-. We had no real concerns because you were there, shielding our reddening shoulders with homespun shade. Always the humble mule guiding us to the rice paper summit, then you were gone in a sudden-graceful puff. Leaving us with great storm clouds filled with mo patches of wild flower and pi.. and to free out hearts forever, a weathered paring knife.