Stand on the peaks of high bluffs
and say goodbye to fear.
Look to the West and say goodbye
to the Sun and kiss the winds
of change. Think of the past and
say goodbye, for you have paid for
those who have followed you here
carrying heavy stones, asking you
to pull them up the mountain,
to drag them up on ancient carpets,
but carpets suffocate the grass.
Leave the heavy stones where they lay.
The altar is thousands of years old and
its drum beats in your heart, pulses through
your nervous system
the synaptic gap
and you’re home. Home,
can you hear the beat?