
I took the magnets out of my compass,
and used the lightning, thunder, drums and trumpets
as guidance through the thick brush, vines, thorns and fungus.
Searching for a state-of-mind that's been orally passed down as being
impossible to find, I verbally questioned the locally blind for geographical
hints to pass along the time. Being an outsider, I found it difficult to gain
the trust of the locals, so I insisted on courting the nobles who made me
swear an oath of secrecy on a leather-bound book of unspoken vocals.
A crude map was given, along with a sacred blade and a handshake
of permission, a navigational gem that glistened, a silk sack of
provisions, and a long list of strict exploratory conditions.
For hydration, I must only drink the rainwater, and if I
stray from the way, I must follow the council of the
river otter. If I find that the temperature is getting
hotter, my course is true, and I must begin to sip
the elder's firewater. My mind must melt into
an isolated state of backwater, then, and
only then, will my eyes be capable of
witnessing the gifts of jade water.
About the Creator
Kale Sinclair
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd | Zen Practitioner
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
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