between these worlds apart
I was in Tibet in the summer of 2007, and it was . . . possibly the most amazing trip I have ever been on. Everything was astounding-- the landscape, the people, the culture-- everything except the food. See that white peak below the prayer flags, briefly emerging from the clouds? That's Chomolungma . . . more commonly known as Mt. Everest.
xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx
L'An Trentiesme De Mon Eage, by Archibald MacLeish
And I have come upon this place
By lost ways, by a nod, by words,
By faces, by an old man's face
At Morlaix lifted to the birds,
By hands upon the tablecloth
At Aldebori's, by the thin
Child's hands that opened to the moth
And let the flutter of the moonlight in,
By hands, by voices, by the voice
Of Mrs. Whitman on the stair,
By Margaret's "If we had the choice
To choose or not -" through her thick hair,
By voices, by the creak and fall
Of footsteps on the upper floor,
By silence waiting in the hall
Between the doorbell and the door,
By words, by voices, a lost way -,
And here above the chimney stack
The unknown constellations sway -
And by what way shall I go back?