--with gratitude to the 'mountain' guides I've known

 

There is a flower waiting to bloom.

You have to travel to it to help it along.

 

It needs lots of water

but not just any water --

 

pure water

like river-water dreaming itself.

 

It needs plenty of light

but not just any light --

 

the kind of radiance absorbed

from the energy of a soul-brightening place.

 

It needs plenty of air

but not just any air --

 

clean air of open space

flowing and constant

so it can move and sway

and strengthen its roots.

 

You cannot reach this rare mountain flower

relying on your usual avenues.

 

The path is long and winding,

sometimes dark, stormy, rocky,

but nothing compares to the views.

 

Like all pilgrimage routes

it is best to purify yourself

and not carry unnecessary weight;

 

but if you do, rest assured,

the natural wisdom of the energy-body

will off-load what does not serve you

for your travels the final way up.

 

The flower is housed in an invisible temple.

The path to the temple starts at the base of your spine.

Go at your own pace.

There is no timeline.

 

You

are the mountain.

You

are the path.

You

are the Limitless Samadhi Flower

that has been waiting for you all along.

 


(c) 2017 / Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com

Learn more about the ambient sonic weavings of Frore at the Bandcamp page for the album Last Place of Wonder.

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