When I’m about to fall, 
reflex lets me stay tall.

Untainted I am not afraid
to learn, the only award 
given is the capability 
of my parietal, enhanced. 

If my awareness situates 
movement as tranquility,
I’ve reached the frontal 
way to plan what to do
next. If I become instead
angered, I’ll lose, afraid.

War aga¡nst fear! 
War ¡s fear, tar!

The brave despite fear stay
true to the Manaslu as they 
descend, the risk of a fall 
won’t kill a will to thrive. 

If I ever would fall, ¡ could 
forever fear. Paralys¡s! ¡ could
choose not to walk or ¡ could 
teach to firmly persist, ¡ could
push bodily against fear, ¡ could
prevail calm against aggression.

It’s not gravity that’s guilty, 
it’s what I expect it to be
that isn’t, misinterpretation.

Young minds know no hate, 
falling, not an impediment,
urging with anticipation 
the moment of satisfaction
that doesn’t know descent. 

If later I learn I'm afraid
of falling, I shall not hate
the mountain nor descent.

Resist the echo of destruction.
Seed firs to dispel malnourished
echoes. Lead to novel reactions.
Let inquiry find itself in minds
that wallow not in discontent
nor fear but honorable courage.  

Clean up the amygdala's dirty
shores. Short circuit fear. Teach 
the hippocampus funambulism.

May I respite, catch the lies, 
dance despite the intensity 
of the atmospheric light, mighty 
felt but balanced of thought, 
frontal I choose what's destiny:
To be true to the intellect. 
Note: Manaslu is a mountain in the Himalayas. The word derives from the Sanskrit (मनस्) manas which in this poem’s context means: primarily intellect.


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