From afar, a giant upturned turnip, piercing the heavens

For the faithful, it is a magnetic rock that beckons

From the plateau of the Gods, rises Mount Kailash

Its ribbed contours, delicate as an eyelash

Pilgrims tread, oblivious of weary feet

Twisting around a rocky street

For three nights and a day

Civilization is kept at bay

Clouds kiss its peak

From which snow crystals leak

Few reach this magical place

Where the mind loses the race

Mount Kailash isn’t only for the hardy

It is within reach when thoughts aren’t tardy

When they turn into hairs that caress the inner sky

The spiritual peak is no longer an opportunity that has gone by