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41 A d or n m e n t on a n A nc i e n t Tom b i n T i b e t They bear a venerable weight on poles balanced on their shoulders, the sum of their incarnations bundled in leather and tied With thongs. Windblown snow makes their burden heavier. To compensate, they cast off memories. This side Of the Mountain, the icepack is littered with stories left behind by other pilgrims. Traveler, you dare Not touch them: they are poisonous histories of men and women frozen in tableaus of desire And stranded forever in this wilderness. Shift the pain of the pole on your left shoulder. Stumble on. The ice will come for you soon enough, bless├ęd one. ...


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