Hold my hands my wooden staff vertical in front of me
Control the z-space as center four the dark side of chess
Move back and forth horizontal axis
Sight the finger tips in line with central staring eyes
long we trampled the mountains high
like burdened whales and hugged squirrels
walked the paths through the lean streets
Cowboy Junction
where ascendant monks find each owned life
inside the enveloping trees
their manner of death remaining as a secret
denizens love them
as much
as much
as much as eyesight
Their hilltops sacred filled with past struggles
To grasp symbols of power strewn throughout
Mangled roots inside memory twists of the gravity
that pulls the weakened ones down
Borkhum was burned itself
its name with fire onto spine
smoothed by the millennia
moments of great torque and pressure
applied with wondrous intent
i am without beauty
queries the trapped oaken soul
without the impediments of reason
my own energy is the existence of sensation
The stark flowers of the dark shade
i am without will when without
Light of million sunsets amber and diffuse
crystalline
Centers of insight
centers of the power
within the third
blinded eye