I walked down to the mountainside,
looked up at the hill + found truth
and myself, it was unmovable
I was not, it belonged to the ages,
I belonged to an age. To truth, I was young.
To myself I questioned, “What have I done?”
Age + Accomplishment have not been a friend
this side of 30, but somehow at the
foot of that mountain, truth spoke of time
as winds of change, the dust on the mountain
is unsettled, with the winds, it moves from
peak to valley and back again.
What is gained and lost if it is the same land?