Tsereve

A chilling wind blows through the dense, fading fog
You startle to find some noise.
Nepalese voices rise as heat falls

Persistence works for the tiring man
Whose life is measured in paper.
But this peak seeks your presence as much as
A heart seeks restrictions;
Persistence is futile.

Get going, get going, get going.
Gongs garnish garbage from the
Glistening guts of your gall.

Falling like drunken cement,
Time trickles passed as you surrender
All breath. All fear. All life.

Consciousness is but one state of reality-
One lived correctly and under control.
Detachment is only celebrated by the omniscient.
Or is it?