EVEREST

some visions draw

us to impossible places.

visions that live

in the heart

of our mythologies.

they pull us like ants, up

into white clouds

at the edge of dream.

how many have perished

in the storm or snow?

their tracks vanished.

whiteness obliterates

the centuries.

but some visions

demand only

snow-eaten feet,

ice-broken hands.

that white stony

visage disdains history.

into the abyss of its mouth

pale generations go

like sleepwalkers.

sometimes a single storm

blots out our elaborate plans.

civilisation climbs its face

and with a breath is erased again.

all dreams lead here.

from this lunar elevation

everything seems clear:

we must either sit still

or overcome ourselves.

we’re the mountains

we need to climb;

we’re our own impossible peak.

everything that we seek

is dissolved by success;

only the trackless path

is worth travelling on.

some dreams do draw us up,

not towards any particular eminence,

but to something of which

this mountain is but a mysterious

symbol, whose meaning eludes us

and ever drives us on, drives us

up, with the blinding sun in our eyes.

it holds up a mirror

to our fevers, our delirium,

our hopes and our need to conquer.

and there we are shattered

there we are made.

it is one of the forms

of the divine, perplexing

the riddle of distance.

is it a call to heroism

or a dream of oblivion?

everyone who ascends

descends into a polar space,

where the far is near

and the near farther

than valhalla.

some visions draw us to

impossible places

where breathing’s a new

language in the wind

where we can climb

higher into the flame of the days

the flowering of the streets

the dim ritual of work

the initiation of sleep

and the clarity of home.

because one person did something

vaguely unthinkable,

perhaps impossible,

because one person did,

others can till their fields

or leap to the moon

dance in a ring of fire

or walk treadmill incarnations

towards the centre of that vast

invisible red rose.

*

you who climb up

and you who sit beneath a tree

and you who at your desk

await a vision, perhaps an annunciation

you who scratch at your thoughts

till your life bleeds

you frozen in fear, or blistered in rage

singing on a vacant stage

you in poverty or in wealth

some vision draws us on

which we must heed

or not be born.