The Ascetic

Every day I go up on the mountain
Climb to the top but I don′t know what for
It's quiet until I hear a voice up on the mountain
Beware of what you want
It might want you more

Ashes my burned hut
But beautiful like cherry
Blooming on the hill

-One of my patients just before he died
And just before I left the hospital and began to travel
If he could face death so calmly
How could I face life with so much doubt
Now I can sit on the side of a mountain
And watch the shadows slowly filling the valley floor
But not without the doubts that still linger
And constantly caress the edges of my shadowy interior
At least a catheter expels impurities in a manner of model efficiency
And my previous profession always at least offered that
Flawless vasectomies in clean and well lit places
A sterile field sealed from infection but not from disease
I often wonder if I left anyone behind
But somehow I just can′t remember
Only an oddly defined drive to find a better way
But somehow I don't believe this is it
As I watch the shadows slowly creeping closer
I think about India and the Hindu concept of Maya
It took me so long to understand
The space between reality and perception
And now it seems that I live there