I join hands with scholars,
whose hands warm with passion,
yet lukewarm towards what they truly desire.
Time has passed.
The snow mountains from afar are concave,
So uniformly as if nature is warring with God
Where the peaks try to break the thick sky.
The mountains, like moons,
Hanging between the stars made of water.
They grow.
The mountains grow.
Yet that is all we could see,
for beyond the mountains is unknown.
We climb the mountains and gaze at the abyss
From left and right, the fog blinds us
from seeing who else reached their hands at the forefront
to grasp the unknown, to understand and control,
a realm God has never touched.
We reached our hands into the darkness
Knowing nothing about what dwells within.
And so we step forth and slowly lose track of time
And the form of our mortal bodies.
We are swallowed by chaos, entropy.
As the abyss gazes back at us,
We keep our eyes half open
In hope that our venture yields something fruitful for humanity.
Nothing more, nothing less.