There's a mountain looming
That I know very well.
I can see it ahead like the vision
Of an ancient memory made manifest.
Just beyond the old horizon,
Do you see it too?
We're on the right road.
It's the mountain of mountains,
As tall as the sky
With glaciers filling every crease and valley
Pinkened by the lowering sun.
And it's all by itself;
It needs no other.
It rises from an endless desert and a boundless sea.
It rises from just beyond the bleeding edge of familiarity.
When I get there I will turn into eagle,
When I get there I will fly
To a height that would be terrible
To a valley-hugger.
But now that I see her
There is no resting.
I can feel the pricking of feathers
Anxious to sprout.
My thoughts grow more serious by the day.
I am driving toward my place of transformation.
When the mountain is all that I see
I will be what I need to be.
To look upon this world
That stole my wings
I will need to fly high,
High enough to see all the sacred mountains.