The peaks were barely seen that night—they hid
Among a sea of aster-painted clouds.
The skies were filled with stars that shone like pearls
Strewn on the shoals of treasure-laden isles.
The sage and pupil journeyed on, although
Beholding neither earthly fields below
Nor mountaintops rearing their jagged crests
Into the time-exempted floods above.
“But how are we to make our way, or know
In which directions we should choose to go?”
Questioned the student as he waded through
The unshorn clouds that whirled about their waists.
“How can we find our way out of this world
Master—it seems a tenfold mystery?”
The sage continued through the cloudy flood,
Though he could neither see his feet below
Nor catch sight of the craggy trails that formed
The stair on which they made their slow ascent.
The sage paused solemnly before the clouds—
“There’s only one way to find out,” he said.
“Besides, all that we know are mysteries.”
Like clouds, the sage and pupil drifted on.
David B. Gosselin is a poet, translator, writer, and researcher in Montreal, Canada. His epic in blank verse, Athena, appears in the latest issue of New Lyre Magazine.
The Night Sky
Trekking among the steep defiles, Trailed by the sage, a young boy tried To use the dim-lit stars in hopes Of finding some path or some guide To help him climb the rocky slopes. They made their way among the fog Which stalked them now for many nights,
The Dragon Slayers
The sage and pupil made their way Along a snowy promontory. With jagged ridges far below, Stern crests and cornices above, They trekked towards the dragon’s grot, Which lay among the snowy crags. But as they neared the creature’s den, The boy began voicing his doubts.
Little Things
Still far below the dreamed-of peaks, The trekkers scaled a mountainside. They climbed up damp and calcined walls, Scaled rocky ledges and steep cliffs. The young boy quickly grappled stones, Swiftly ascending up each crag. His grip was anxious and zealous,
The Mountain Wood
A sage and pupil made their way Into a deep and darkened wood. They searched and wandered places Where, for years, no traveler would. The underbrush, the damp-cool swamps And thorny vines delayed their climb; And countless unknown fruits hung from
The Gorge
The travelers had reached a gorge Whose darkness they would have to breach. The mountaintops lay far ahead— “Such darkness has a lot to teach,” The master said while looking down The river gorge’s darkened depths— The frightened boy sighed deep, and looked
Black Mountain Clouds
A horde of gaunt gossamer clouds Came drifting through the gloomy sky— Thick mists poured down over the peaks, Wafting about the frigid air —Like vapors from a witch’s spell— Bubbling, foaming, frothing, until The sable brim was overflowed, And curses on cursed pinions flew.
Chinese Mountain Man: Dreams
Now after many, many years, And after many, many tears, Alas, they’d reached the mountain top— The summit which so many sought. Under the heavens’ starry shrouds, The sage and boy walked through the clouds Where scarlet moonlight gently bathed Each glistening slope and snowy cave.
May the ascent bring more light through the clouds!
The first thing today I have read, a very good way to start my day. Thank you.