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The Quester

The valley's call is louder than the mountain's peak. I fall. Fell halfway from the stairway to heaven. Here in the realm of the fallen are supple lilies swaying in the evening breeze like ballet dancers. Its springs knows how seductive to whisper my name. Her healing fragrance like mother's damp wrapper promising to heal my wounds leaving no scars behind that haunts. The mount stands unmoved by my flood of tears like a child failing to climb up its mother's breast that will not let it. Bleeding wounds grace my skin. It must be bad blood seeping out that makes one a wimp. My aching body tangos With desires Desires priced by pain and ruins Ruins of old self knowledge. I roam in my thought lost in its endless maze. No one finds you here. I return somehow to the bewitching vale robed with greenery like Flora grooms it. Its been ages I slept on a thornless bed in the name of passion. I fall on broken knees. ''Its no use" I muse. "I have tried" Somehow, I knew I lied. I sigh, my eyes etherwards Without more words. Gazing one more time at the mount behind My callous fingers uproots A lily Whose flower vase is the skull I believed to be brother's who slept here like I want to. The enchantment breaks off me. Eyes clear, I surge towards the mountain Like an enraged bull trampling over everything on my path already weedy. Ever will remain my soul without rest till I conquer Everest. I will never rest till I conquer Everest and on her breast will I weave my nest where I shall blow the shofar of conquest.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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