Essays in Verse: Encounter with Snow on Emeishan
This time, I'm not a tourist coming to pay homage.
I am a shadow fleeing from the city, a refugee from phones, computers, skyscrapers, and the frenetic bustle of the metropolis. No one knows who I am, and your attire won't receive a second glance. Escaping the tangled web of gazes, shedding the complexities of the world, my soul is like a bird hidden amongst the mountains and rivers.
Emeishan in February, shrouded in mist and snow. He probably understands me too, concealing his majestic form, hiding the flurry of footprints…leaving the clamor behind, savoring this desolate serenity.
The icy, slippery mountain path, perilous step by step, shrinking the few remaining tourist figures.
I'm not a tourist. I didn't come here to witness the brilliance of the sunrise at the Golden Summit. I won't stop simply because of the mist and snow.
I'm just carefully searching for myself, searching for the dream floating atop the peaks.
Thank you for this serendipitous snowfall, which buried my chaos and turmoil, letting my numb mind tremble once again in the bone-chilling cold, rediscovering my awareness.
Perhaps, I've forgotten myself for too long, too long…
The hurried, confused days, flashing past, mercilessly exposing the emptiness within, repeatedly striking at my heart, rendering it incredibly fragile.
And in this solitary ascent, I feel so satisfied and happy. Because with every step upward, I'm getting closer to purity, closer to tranquility, closer to myself…
Closer to the pulse and heartbeat of the mountains.
The bells of Huayang Temple, resounding through the clouds and mist, echoing amongst the peaks.
Listening to the sacred chants of this land of serenity, life blooms like a lotus flower.
The peak keeps turning at its utmost extreme.
When I left Emeishan, I saw the rapeseed fields outside the mountains, painting the earth with hues of gold.
