never go back, but never forget

(yet another introspection)

—

Underneath the shine, on this mountain of pride,

I tumble and dabble, yet still yearn to travel,

into the blue lagoons and across the white heaven.

 

I tend to contemplate, the leetspeak of Zarathustra and Krishna,

If that is indeed a sure way to live?

If the future was already a past unto itself?

Of the treasures I’d gain, by besting one of our own,

Would they everlast, or if that even matters?