Cold mountain

Open handed I tried to live among all people,
Ideas aloft.
Open handed I read the books,
I learned the histories,
I sang the songs.

Until mountains bellowed that my friends are flawed,
To not forget sorrow and all the other Gods,
That my mouth is dirty and my ears are clogged,
And of course that I'm flawed also...
And then it stopped.

Open handedness had me in it's grasp,
Running around frantically anxiously,
Showing off my "open hands"
Until "Hope, Unhand me!"
And I finally yelped:
"Let me dwell on bad news,
Let me wallow in it"
And so came long nights and hunkering down.

There stood Cold Mountain with it's trickling sound.
When I reached the summit, I made no camp
But I unrolled my sleeping back in the stream
And let the cold water pour into my ears.