Walking the Corpse Road

Climbing the mountain
we stumble over tombs,
places where we cleave
to all that is buried in our past.

We discover no right,
no wrong, old judgements
by which we are possessed,
filling us with smoke,

clouding the beauty
of mind and conscience.
Revealing how we cling
to that which is dead.

we are pilgrims on a journey
no longer do we sleep, carried
by a flame that is burning,
we enter the bottomless lake

of our dreams, nothing is
hidden from the agony of illusion.
We become wise as we travel
up to a world where clouds part,

revealing each of us as
a single line in a sacred text.
The wisdom of tree and rock
revered as the teaching of elders.

Simone Silver Path