Journey Through Mountains: The Waterfall, Mastery and Details
By David Gosselin
The Waterfall
“So noisy are the towns and villages,” remarked
The sage as he and his young pupil made
Their way across the bustling thoroughfares,
Heading toward the mountains and the mist.
The boy, only accustomed to the sound
Of rustling towns and city happenings,
Half-listened as he looked ahead toward
The snowy mountains, so near, yet so far.
Rising up from the earthly surface to the sky,
Piercing the sprawling cloudscapes up above,
The glistening peaks arrested his young eyes,
Their crests adorned with all the elements:
The pristine snow and careless alpine winds,
A gentle frost and pines that fear no cold.
But back below and far from busy towns,
After trekking for many quiet hours,
They heard a faint and playful murmuring
Beckoning them toward the leaf-dimmed light:
Soon, deep amid the forest’s evergreens,
Solacing caves and gnarled untrodden paths,
They found themselves before a waterfall
Whose rushing cataracts and foaming floods
Somehow inspired in them the calmest thoughts.
“The truth, though men forget, is never lost,”
Said the sage as he and the boy sat down;
They watched the foaming floods rush on for hours.
Mastery
They crossed the rickety and cursed old bridge
And finally made it to the other side.
Surmounting gaping chasms far below,
They crossed the fear-fed gorges and abysms.
Alas, the gnawing fear and raving dread
Had only just begun to rear its head.
“Master, the end seems but the beginning,
The beginning the end, there’s never here,
Here’s never there; yet we’ve already climbed
So many mountainsides and trekked along
So many paths—should one not choose to live,
Instead of seeking what may never be?”
“The danger’s only going half the way,”
Said the sage as he watched the dim-lit stars.
“How to become a real master, then?”
Questioned the student as he trailed behind.
“There are no masters,” answered the old sage,
“Just students of the sacred Word and Way.
For, those who fail at being masters have
Not failed to reach their long-awaited goal
They’ve failed at being students,”—the sage smiled,
Then disappeared into bamboo groves.
Details
The sage and boy sat on a path which lay
Atop one of the highest mountain crests.
Yet, neither sage nor boy looked down upon
The star-like speckles they knew as their towns.
Rather, they looked above, gazing upon
The star-strewn skies that blushed with unknown fires.
“So many stars and mountains, crests and sky,
Are we not fools to think that we can know
What underlies such intricate designs?”
Asked the boy as he eyed the twinkling schemes.
“The Truth is simple,” answered the old sage,
“The details are infinite.” Then he paused,
“Pity the ones who can’t distinguish them,
The captives of their own clever designs.”
Turning his gaze towards the unnamed skies,
A glint of starlight shining in his eyes,
The ancient sage looked on, “The wise remove
All that which blinds them from the simple Truth.”
He gazed upon the distant starscapes up
Above, musing upon the twinkling flames.
David Gosselin is a poet, writer, and translator based in Montreal. He is the founding editor of The Chained Muse and New Lyre Magazine. His epic in iambic blank verse, Athena, appears in New Lyre Magazine—Winter 2024. His ongoing series of philosophical poems, “Journey Through Mountains” is an ever-expanding poetical journey, currently consisting of 25 visions, which he periodically posts and reads on his Substack.
Read more poetry from Journey Through Mountains.
The Waterfall: The town and its inherent noise, created by man are abhorrent to some, who find a calmness and peace in creation's louder rushing, tumbling, roaring waterfall. Twenty miles north of the city is a 50 acre wilderness with river,creek and pond, where I choose to live. My daughter wants a waterfall for the pond. Thomas Jefferson-"If we become piled upon one another in cities, as in Europe, we shall become as corrupt as Europe."
My favourite of these three poems is 'Details'. I love the wisdom of that sixth verse: "The truth is simple" ... "The details are infinite". That really appeals to me. I also like 'Mastery'. I read it carefully in The Chained Muse, and at the end of it I couldn't help thinking of what James Joyce said when he had condensed the whole history of mankind into Finnegans Wake. He said: "I know very little. I am still a student." But a very remarkable student indeed! ( One who knew his limits, his precise task, and didn't fail.) Fine poems, David. And a fine reading of them. Well done!