The Gorge

This was a poem, I read on a fellow blogger's Myspace blog. I dont know where he went cause his profile has been deleted. He went by the handle of Teawhistle, I enjoyed his poems, they had a deep sense of pain and whimsy in them. We had spoken a few times over the Chat after which he just disappeared... This is the only poem of his I saved, I now wish I had saved a few of his poems. This poem is about Faith... I liked it cause its a sort of story in poem format, reminded me of stories that I read when I was a kid. Posting it for your reading pleasure.

there is a gorge
at the juncture of two mountains whose summits both rise
beyond the highest clouds.
the western mountain is shrouded in perpetual fog
while the eastern mountain never sees adversity.

this gorge spans one hundred miles across
and is one hundred miles deep;
it's beginning and end
have never been found.

a village sits at the base of the western mountain
and its priest is the oldest man in the entire country.
he claims that the floor of the great gorge
holds soil so rich
that a seed planted there
would produce a tree that grows forever.

the villagers are all farmers
spending every day nurturing their crops in the dismal climate
struggling and toiling for every edible morsel
saving every spore and seed;
their thrift is unmatched in all the known world.

one day a young girl paid the priest a visit
"i tossed a seed into the gorge." she said
"it will land in the rich soil, and in time, produce a tree so enormous
that its branches will extend across the gorge
and our people will be able to cross over to the eastern mountain."

the old priest's eyes widened and sparkled as a young man's.
he took off the robe of his office,
and placed it around her tiny shoulders;
then, taking his staff, he hobbled out the door and down the path
never to be seen or heard from again.