At the turn of the new year, I walk out of the door every morning with a heavy heart. When I look up, I see the barrenness of our sacred mountain, the Machhapuchhre, unveiled from her white crown. It pierces the heart like a sharp knife slicing through the fragility of life and our ecosystems. Yet, somehow, the new winds seem to bring forth a fresh fragrance, a resilience of spirit and a sense of hope as we step into the unknown of 2025.
Windows, like eyes
frame the world’s eternal question
A quiet glass between what is seen and what is hidden
2024 was a jagged ascent like Machhapuchhre
its path littered with reckoning, air thin with questions
Through the pane,
we see our footprints on shifting paths
each step a measure of how far we’ve climbed
Growth was not easy, a storm and a sunrise
A reflection that cuts deep revealing the raw and thawed
We stand at this crossing, holding on
Truth demands we look even when it stings
A fragile crown on a giant’s brow
of a world stretched thin between neglect and wonder
yet in her nakedness, she weathers and endures
The earth beneath,
bruised and bare, still held firm still dared us
to look on and know the pressing urgency
each step, a negotiation with gravity
each stumble, a lesson learned in silence
Now the window opens to the winds of 2025
A threshold where fear and hope mingle like old friends
Beyond lies the unknown wild rivers, untamed peaks
opportunity presses its face against the glass
urging us forth to an unchartered future
The now may be thin, the earth may falter
but the spirit of the mountain remains unflinching
Step through and let the air bite let the wind whip
that each challenge is a chance to climb
that the fragile holds are often the strongest anchors
And so I step away, asking, what will we do with their silent plea?
