Prayer Rome

We're the cloud people
Getting by on less
Sleeping under thatch
Not talking much
Writing so much less
A few poems perhaps

We let go of the world
Working the higher slopes
Out of touch with the times
But not the seasons
Having none of your doubts
And none of your reasons

And it comes down to this:
We traded flatland dust
For mountain mist
To be distant
Insignificant

And you know we're there
Beyond your city walls
Where you see lone columns of smoke
After the snowfalls

Don't think we've been pushed
From their hearts and minds
Though sage kings are gone
And left deserted shrines