Manaslu moments

Smoke carries a monk’s chant into the air, with the benediction and spin of an old woman’s prayer
Echoes hold the golden shards of dawn, which light the mountains sharp edged yawn
The crunch of snow through a Kani gate, opens to the whispers of flutes and a serenity state
Prayer flags flutter pure light of blue, white, red, green and yellow, and a village cockerel wakes with a mighty bellow
Crimson leaves stitched against snow and sky, gently tremble like the wings of butterfly
The Buri Gandaki gushing and cool, fed by rainbows which plunge into a sunlit pool
A babbling stream powers a turning stone, crushing corn which feeds a squirrel’s throne
The clang dang of Yakows and mules, the bleat of sheep and trotting feet
A lamb packed on a back; women bent with a forehead strap
Mani walls etched with Buddhist scrawl, black silhouettes suspended and small
Stark branches claw the skies, a valley shapes a mountain rise
A crow perches on a golden spire, where the temples, Kani and Mani reach higher
Aspiring to touch the heavens of fire and the silver spindrift which floats into space,
Intertwined, redefined, sublime where the white of Manaslu cuts the blue and the Gods view
Timeless on Spirit mountain, moments, enlightenment, infinity

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