I saw him dancing. Intoxicated by his own music. In a sort of trance.
Just watching him, was kind of a trance too.
His eyes, sometimes open, sometimes closed. Swaying rhythmically.
Serenading himself. Romancing no one, yet, maybe, all of us.
There was a lesson "here". I was sure.
I didnt know the language of mountains though. And still dont.
(Hence) that lesson was (is) forever lost on me.
Sunday, November 13, 2022
4079 : The dance of the mountain
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the poet who lied
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