A path I can walk through blind
following a lighthouse I can't see
Swimming in a vast dark sea
lured by a sirens call I can't hear
The sweet scent guiding
my lumbering feet
to my designed abyss

The mountain lies at the horizon
between us a thick fog of trials
They blend with the landscape
surrounding me in silk covered
drifting clouds
In murky swamps
with nightmarish hounds

I do not fear them
There is no innate harm in them
no malice
They exist to pass through
Great teachers of impermanence
Enjoy them
bask in their glow
without clouds
without swamps
the journey is painted with a dry brush
the journey--painted in hues of ecstasy and despair
is the mountain
the destination
the path

I will drift high into the clouds
I will grind my palms into the stinking mud
and then I will return on my journey
and my teachers will be at my side