Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The Roof of the World

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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