As if patterns tell me something.
As if dreams were clear swirls in an oyster sky.
As if I beat doubt with the flats of a saber.
As if my wild, tangled hair held truth.
As if fear fell as steady as rain dripping down from the eaves of a house.
As if joying in the freeing distance between peak and base.
As if the air lacked haze, and the view stretched on and on across rows of green and gold mountains, each paler than the last until the final ranks were indistinguishable from sky.
As if I could feel the whirl of wheels.
…the speed of my ascension,
…a vague disinterest in people who care nothing at all for this thrill and wonder.