“Mountain Heights, Cader Idris,” David Cox, 1853, Wikiart.

Not all deserts are sand-rippling dunes,
Extending to cloudless horizon, lost
Regions where nomadic wanderers
Mingled alongside snowy summits.
Where is this other desolate world?

Here, on high plateau moraine, I rise
Amongst clouds, neither inside nor
Outside the world, existence undeniable:
Ancient, ice-crushed, rocky rubble
Strewn beneath my feet.

Over chilly summers, wind-fluttering
Prayer flags I extended from boulder tops.
May I be more than mere visitor to this
Moraine, that it will become part of me.
This I sang aloud to heavenly heights.

Thanks for reading this Tenzing poem.

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