Picture by Randolfo Santos from Google Maps
The Lap Of Nirvana
© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019
Mist rises to find another day, new or old doesn’t matter. Young or old, I don’t matter. All that matters is today.
Today my feet kiss this steep path as it rises heavenward while boulders of sweat kiss me. I love these views and am honoured to be offered them again. It seems an unfair exchange for this weight crushing my back.
In the unyielding heat, this basket load of stone tools becomes a basketfull of fruit, which then becomes a basket overflowing with flowers, whose fragrance buoys me at the steepest part of my journey, where my scrabbling fingers bleed to bone and my lungs dry up.
Now stone becomes me, I can begin to understand how they might feel. Only then can I be ready to resume work.
Hundreds of us resume together, chisseling and carving, what we will see when this life frees us from the next.
The above story was written in response to the What Pegman Saw prompt, which this week took us to:
The Buddhist kingdom of Bhutan, on the Himalayas’ eastern ridge.
You are warmly invited to the Inlinkz link party to read other globetrotting contributors’ stories inspired by this week’s prompt.