Like Death, a Trail Closed sign stands before
an elemental path. So breathe, fool, breathe!

The agony of a climb. Not Everest the same
sun rises over this mountain, and darkness,
too, flows at the speed of light.

Like secret handshakes, the ear-whispered
teaching is pressed in; but we each live our
own myth, where sooty broomsticks sweep
a trans
parent
            sky.