Every day I go up on the mountain Climb to the top but I don't know what for It's quiet until I hear a voice up on the mountain Beware of what you want It might want you more Ashes my burned hut But beautiful like cherry Blooming on the hill One of my patients just before he died And just before I left the hospital and began to travel If he could face death so calmly How could I face life with so much doubt Now I can sit on the side of a mountain And watch the shadows slowly filling the valley floor But not without the doubts that still linger And constantly caress the edges of my shadowy interior At least a catheter expels impurities in a manner of model efficiency And my previous profession always at least offered that Flawless vasectomies in clean and well lit places A sterile field sealed from infection but not from disease I often wonder if I left anyone behind But somehow I just can't remember Only an oddly defined drive to find a better way But somehow I don't believe this is it As I watch the shadows slowly creeping closer I think about India and the Hindu concept of Maya It took me so long to understand The space between reality and perception And now it seems that I live there