Once he got there, being on the mountain was
never the same for the young man
as it was in his dreams and fantasies.
These whole trips began in his daydreams
in the midst of his life
back from whence he came;
There was always that feeling of escape,
That longing for what all being there
would not be,
those things to which he was so shackled.
He could never understand, however, how
Being there could be just as he opined
But not at all what he wanted, could
Never understand how all he could think of
Once he got there
Was that from when he had come.
He recalled the man who sang about Layla talking
About how he had such difficulties being present in the moment,
How, when he was in the studio making music,
He wanted to be on the riverbank fishing and
How, when he was on the riverbank fishing,
He wanted to be in the studio making music.
The young man thought of those things when he got there,
And he couldn’t think for the life of him why,
When all he wanted to do in those daydreaming moments was
Get there and forget about all the trappings of
There from whence he’d come,
That place and those things were
All he could think of
Once he got there.
One reason for this was that the young man walked the mountain,
When he could have learned from the old man’s approach;
The old man let the mountain walk him.
The old man did the walking of course
As well as the not walking,
The standing still and sitting
The breathing and looking
The watching the seeing the feeling
There was such a thing as a world
And that in it there are clocks.
He let the mountain play out like a movie
That he could pause at any moment,
To hold longer
The parts he liked the best.
He didn’t use the mountain as a substitute for anything,
But just for what it was:
A place to be
And to do so better.