Wednesday, July 21, 2010

On The Steppe

On the steppe there
Is a wall
Not very wide
Not very tall.
But you cannot go
'Round that wall
It all seems
Rather odd.

To get from here
To over there
You have to climb
The wall ... that's
Shrouded in
A mystery,
Portends, perhaps
Of god.

A mystery; no name
Or face
It came before
A mystery that
Defies space
And time -

We must go from here
To there
So we must climb
The wall.
'Cause out there on
That lonely steppe
Is where we
Find ourselves.

But even as
we climb the wall
The mystery
Yet in the climb
We find ourselves

© 2006 and 2008 by Jacob Anson. All rights reserved


Mary Stebbins Taitt said...

Thought provoking!!!!! :-D mysterious!

Francisca said...

Whether it's a mountain or a wall, climb we must. I like your poem, Jacob.

Cezar and Léia said...

I think it is also about to face our fears.
Beautiful poetry!You are a wonderful writer! :)
I like your new headers ( in the others blogs), brilliant photography.

Light and love to your hearts!

Small City Scenes said...

I think life itself is a wall to climb.
Sometimes low
sometimes high
sometimes stonier
sometimes smooth.