Glory Road


Many miles have I journeyed.
Oblivious to human kind.
Towards the Himalayas.
To seek a peace of mind.

I stand a look around me.
Hills so barren and cold.
Winter’s done it’s work here
on the peaks so white and bold.

The people here are numbered.
Peasants live along the road.
Oxen pulling cargoes
to feed their humble homes.

Food is grown with hardship.
The soil is thin and poor.
No machines clutter these mountains.
Just the hand that pulls the hoe.

And the people are so friendly.
Guru’s in white are clothed,
who ponder with the spirits
of those who’ve lived before.

I view the world with asunder
and divide these different lands.
Civilization and pure nature.
Yes, I know where I stand.

1972, August

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