The Ascent
The pilgrims climb with breath and vow,
Their bodies bent, their foreheads bow.
But still they rise, they do not cease—
The shrine ahead is built in peace.
Each step a death, each step a birth—
The sacred mountain roots the Earth.
The hallway stretches without end,
Its mirrors curve, its candles bend.
No summit comes, no final goal—
Just image deepening the soul.
The climb becomes the very path
Where being melts into the math.
