To the South of the Clouds
(A monologue? Perhaps a Soliloquy? Random thoughts that rise and fall? But definitely not close to poetry. Random words are surfacing in my mind. Whatever this may be, I jot them down here. ) To a Small Mountain by the Jinsha It is time I leave. It is time I pick up my pack and go. Time is telling me to and so I must and I will. For that is the only thing I know. Time is always ready. Ready when I am. It is I who has to rise and roll. My pack is an address of a changing destination. An address of a dream. Dream is me. My existence. It is my secret soul. Open is the sky as the mountains high With mighty challenges and snow. Open is the ocean and the river deep where together we must flow. To a land where three mighty rivers glow in glory. I will meet one of them and walk along its banks and its gorges, till I climb higher and further from its fury. Higher and further from the chaos, Deeper and calmer I will be. Closer and colde