--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 --
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.
are the mountain.
are the path.
are the Limitless Samadhi Flower
that has been waiting for you all along.
(c) 2017 / Pure Land Poetry / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) / purelandpoetry.com
Learn more about the ambient sonic weavings of Frore at the Bandcamp page for the album Last Place of Wonder.