Distance

The feet grow weary
As the distance grows
Between dream and reality
The peaks grow taller by the day
The more you climb
The farther they are
The queue grows longer
With privileged pilgrims
Joining the stream midway
The shrine is stepping back
The roundabouts are as clogged
As the direct roads
And the city lights
Are still not in sight
The head and feet
Keep moving away
And the envious god
Who will go unworshipped
Is still soaring
And the flower is still falling
The fragrance yet to spread.