The Ascetic

Every day I go up on the mountain
Climb to the top, but I don’t know what for
It’s quiet until I hear a voice up on the mountain
It says «beware of what you want, it might want you more!»
«Ashes, my burned hut
But beautiful, like cherry
Blooming on the hill»
-One of my patients, just before he died, and just before I left the hospital
and began to travel
If he could face death so calmly, how could I face life with so much doubt?
Now, I can sit on the side of a mountain and watch the shadows slowly filling
the valley floor, but not without the doubts that still linger and constantly
caress the edges of my shadowy interior
At least a catheter expels impurities in a manner of model efficiency,
and my previous profession always at least offered that. Flawless vasectomies
in clean and well lit places, a sterile field sealed from infection,
but not from disease…
I often wonder if I left anyone behind, but somehow I just can’t remember.
Only an oddly defined drive to find a better way. But somehow, I don’t believe
this is it. As I watch the shadows slowly creeping closer, I think about India
and the Hindu concept of Maya
It took me so long to understand the space between reality and perception,
and now it seems that I live there