While, the sun, it shone.
I chilled at the bone,
and crossed.
Still as a cold stone,
in the glade alone,
I’m lost.
A teeth-gritting moan,
the known turns unknown.
What cost?
the !n(tro)verted yogi
Bernie Gourley. Traveling Poet-Philosopher
While, the sun, it shone.
I chilled at the bone,
and crossed.
Still as a cold stone,
in the glade alone,
I’m lost.
A teeth-gritting moan,
the known turns unknown.
What cost?
the !n(tro)verted yogi 
Mysterious and haunting! I loved it😊
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Lovely!
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