Mountain

While exploring in my peaceful sanctuary, a phrase caught my heart – active endeavor.

I had to experience you actively, through feelings, of the flesh and into the core. To participate other than that is to have submerged, compressed, suppressed, shortcut, layered it. It would have been lame and lazy. It wouldn’t be life.

So strap me in the middle, right just below my navel and above my hips. Strap me until the pain in my bony back and long legs, the heaviness and sting on my shoulders feed me strength and endurance. Strap me until I’m no more.

Come out, come out wherever you are. You don’t need telling. But I say you are as enveloped in mystery. There are meanings that lead to further meanings, indefinitely.

You stood with me in my active endeavor. My words run empty, just like your message in the silence. I am a puff of dust. It is life lived, indeed.