you stand, fist raised,
against the mountain’s face.
each strike an echo
that only you embrace.
you call it yoga.
i call it poking the moon.
so drop the hammer,
left or right.
let your hand
......
you stand, fist raised,
against the mountain’s face.
each strike an echo
that only you embrace.
you call it yoga.
i call it poking the moon.
so drop the hammer,
left or right.
let your hand
......