The
moment I was born
I
saw the blue sky—
The
roof of the world—
High
and Mighty;
Blue
and Vivid;
Nights
festooned with
stars
that twinkled.
An
urge throated me
To
find the root of the roof,
I
knew it grew from
Behind
the opaque mountains—
This
transparent, fragile shell—
The
roof of the world.
I
climbed atop the mountain
And
the sky moved away,
A
long gap of valleys
stood
between us;
The
sky and the root searcher.
Its
rooted behind another mountain
I
seemed far from my goal, exhausted.
But
I must walk,
For
my dreams need to grow.
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