There was a time, when all
else had failed,
when plainsmen journeyed
to see the holy mountain
for themselves
and settle old disputes
about
how high a man or a woman
could climb
without slipping upward
into the deep.
Those who returned built
stone temples
and carved stirring tales
into wood.
Midnight bells called novices into a discipline of
retraced steps.
As for me, I’d rather hear
from the ones
we never saw again.
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