The Lonely Climber behind a Resort Hotel

you are tired, terribly tired
tired of climbing alone
upon an unknown mt quazilla
your sons refused to join you
feeling uneasy in your fatherly presence
your wife laughed at your wanton whim
preferring not to share your eccentricity
most of your fellow travelers are relaxing in cozy cabins
enjoying moments of borrowed privacy
indifferent to your intent or interest
as you keep throwing your clothes and sweat
onto the dusk-dyed trailside
ready to offer your whole naked being to nature
happening to see a multicolored stone
you wonder if it was dropped by the philosopher
or left over by nu wa while mending the heavens
encountering a curious and cautious deer
you sing above the top of a coarse voice
all your favorite songs of the past
as if to examine your life in a prolonged explosion
when the echo scares her jumping away
reminding you of your lonely tiredness

hoping to get my own vision of the valley
i keep climbing, climbing and climbing
each time i manage to come upon a little slope
i see another hill edge higher ahead
i stop, hesitate and look back
more times than i can count
i doubt there is anything for me on the peak
except a few nameless wild flowers
or some new branching of an ancient tree
but i keep climbing, step after step
as if pushed slowly and steadily
by an unseen hand

it is not a question of climbing or not climbing
nor a choice between two different roads
he will eventually lose all traces of any trail
until a fresh path begins to follow his footprints
all he wants to do now is to forget the burning noises
that he cannot escape but leave far behind
down at the foul-smelled foot of the mountain
for now