Mountain's Mist

Mountain's Mist

Fallen from the crumbling path,
my feet are shackled in the mist;
every step entombed within the fog of day.

Stumbling with my hands before me,
my sight condemns me to darkness;
reflections of the Sun sear my eyes.

But what is this?
Night has fallen
and now I see?

My path revealed by the Moon,
a transcendent host bears witness;
reverence inclines my soul.

Wisdom unveiled in the night,
Heaven and Earth are exposed;
darkness has given birth to truth.

e.s. kohen
cmp.2012.02.16.18:36
ed.20180101.02 (Public Draft)

Notes:
Written in the “Mystic” tradition of “The Dark Night of the Soul.”

On July 23, 2011, I was on a hike up Pyramid Mountain in the Olympic National Park — just a small mountain for a gear-test, (to prepare for another trip which would require carrying six+ liters of water).

Embarrassingly, it ended up being a very difficult mountain for me to climb — and even more difficult to descend. I had gotten into an accident (I promise I didn’t make that landslide worse than it was!), and also made a mistake, (hooray for Giardia), with a new water purification method, (Ultraviolet). So injured and without water, I got to stare at all of the water (so close, but so far away) in Lake Crescent for a couple of days.

A few months after I had gotten back, I ended up writing about this “contemplation”. Although I was dehydrated, these thoughts relentlessly “saturated” my mind while I was desperate to get water.

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