THE SEARCH FOR MAYA

THE SEARCH FOR MAYA

Roads are made
like ladders
it is too steep to scale
these angles
that are jutting broadly
and acutely
into the sky

This place evokes memories
of Arjuna's Battlefield.

Stair-steps
ladders
then fissures.

A landscape of infinite cleavage,
heavy, rolling
into the roaming skies.

It is riddled with baubles
that might otherwise
be mistaken
for the skin of
this land.

But it has become clear
that the land has not forgotten,
though we may have,
the texture of our own skin.

A name in the sky,
a name in the sand
a name written into these hands.

How clear the beauty of the sterile
A stark reminder,
that even life can be conquered.

and so, the loss of blood today
has become a pressure of invasion...

Clearly, our own senses have not become so dulled
that the leaves of paper
and the leaves of trees
are but one and the same.

This texture of skin,
the glide of landscape
a fog of breath
(is not that of the lost forests)
but the ache for meaning.

We search for meaning,
the longing for longing
it is a search for maya...

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