Kismet

Why do I keep coming back here?

Photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash

Returned to the city,
In this emptiness, I call home.
Amidst the crowds
And the road machines breathing smoke,
Have I mentioned coffee and cigarettes?
And of course,
Aged alcohol and the bawdy whores?

I have spent many a moment in my void…
So, this escape is less than desired;
I found no answers.
In the realms of the heavens.
Or gods alike:
Perhaps the world of men,
And their inane self-righteous corruption can answer this time.

Photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash

Note Bene:

In 2005, I travelled north to the Himalayas. I was 18 — wild and free-spirited — and I came across the strangest Buddhist monastery. They had cordoned off a section and built it into a dormitory for travellers and tourists, the perfect place for me to write.

An old aviator’s jacket, an old pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, a bottle of rum, the cold mountain air…