Borderland

There are immeasurable things.

I don’t care what science says;
as important and respectable as it is
and as important and respectable
as we must be in rendering to it
all of what it deserves,

there are immeasurable things
that long for a scale made
from dragon tears, or for tears made
from dragon scales; there are tales
that are true with no evidence of their truth
and imaginary mountains as daunting
as any solid range.  

Scoffers will tell you otherwise, of course.
Skeptics will snap and snipe you silly.
Ridicule for breakfast, scorn for dinner,
a diet of derision all day long
and pretty soon you will start to starve
from all the trash bile you’ll be consuming.

In the midst of that remember
that there are things worth holding
that you cannot hold and beings worth knowing
who will not manifest before you. 
Among the mountains you cannot climb
are valleys where you can rest
and the map you must use to get there

is undrawn, unprinted,
as solid as dragon scales
and as clear as the fog 
around the tops of those mountains.

You’re in the foothills now
just by reading this. If you think
it’s nonsense and you turn away
it’s nonsense.

If you decide to follow
it’s still nonsense.

If you follow to the end.
If you follow it partway.
If you take one step toward it
it’s still nonsense,
an immeasurable country,
a borderland where you might belong.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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