They told me to head to the mountains.
That is where the truth lies.
Beyond snow leopards,
and icicle caves,
and glassy slopes
and pine forests.
Above it all, amid rock formations that
always seemed just a little..
out there.
And that is because they are the stairwells and escalators,
the gateways,
not to heaven-
that’s not what this is about.
But there is something like magic out there,
burrowed in ice and powder.
They say white is pure,
I say white is emptiness.
It seems hollow.
When really it’s just more
than we are capable of seeing.
So I’ll wait here in the snow by an empty sign.
I’ll wait for words to appear.
