Clad in a red robe
He washes his face under the waterfall
Everything is crystal clear
He gazes into the clouds
A short figure is coming behind
Distant smoke he can smell
It reminds him of a simpler time
Of chasing monkeys with his pals
Dewdrops on orchid trees
Give a sense of
Tranquility
But he’s not satisfied
With metaphors
He takes a sip
Gets on his feet
He needs his stick
An old stick
A gift from his mentor
So he says
Sturdy like the man himself
He takes his teachings seriously
For it his only half his trek
It is day 13
No he hasn’t yet
He doesn’t know if he’s close
There are though footsteps
Bigger than his
Sunk into the rocks
It is not the way of common men
For they simply do not
Understand
They seek peace in a lover’s hands
With fragile hearts and brittle bones
They can only contemplate
But he does not put his mind to that
For he has bigger things
To tread wet green rocks and
And jungles free
In search of
Tranquility.
(To be continued)
