Arduously, I cut through the dark thorny brush blocking my path to the top of the mountain. There seemed no end to the thorns that pricked and embedded their sharp tips in my soft skin. I looked up from a fresh-cut bramble to stand below a black impenetrable palisade. I had entered at the darkest place, for that was the only starting spot, And now, after years of clearing and climbing, I am struck by how much more work remains. I set to work ascending one of the tallest trees - I need perspective - Once at the top, perched among the most vulnerable branches, I’m shocked to see a narrow path working its way in my direction. I descend into the bleak understory, and with vigor stoked by curiosity, I renew my efforts with bloody hands. Covered in the muck of the earth, Scarred by splintered branches, My only guide being the darkest path, A single star-point of light penetrates the smallest of openings and I hear the dull thud of chopping, Then a pause - I pick up my dull tool and set feverishly to work. The Other does, as well. An explosion, then. A break. A faltering, and the titan falls. After the settling, I mount the downed trunk, facing my now clear uphill path. There, opposite, stand the Other. A yellow-haired boy wearing a crown. “When you began, I began. I have seen you from above, and worked my way down to meet you here.” We embraced, and all my wounds turned to gold. #ironjohn #robertbly #heroesjourney #gold #poetry #forest #ascend #descend (at Orange, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/B7uq6XlgE7J/?igshid=tsdeti6r98xj
