V

I stand
I sit

On the verge
On the cusp

No commitment
Not sure

I tell myself
These days are like that

The truth is not clear
The way is not open

The roads
They do not lead home

Detached from
Direction
Blind-sided by
Form

It is easy to lose sight of
The mountain heart

Covered by clouds
And far from this place

I sometimes forget
Its bright emptiness

Looking up now
At your
White flowing robes

I tell myself

I don’t need to go back

To climb the steps again