There’s too much of yourself in your poems,
says the great master,
too much obsession,
look away from your body , look away and forget
the flesh that tethers you to the earth.
A falcon can only fly higher
when he forgets his own weight.
but, my master,
says the young man who comes to seek wisdom
I have only my eyes to see, my hands to touch
and almost too anxious a heart to feel,
without the feeling of the wind
it is not, for a falcon, flying.
The master nods and smiles,
The wind shall remember the flying.
Happily, the young man walks down the mountain
where the road bifurcates into the wilderness.