Pine Valley Mountain

If there’s no one in the world
Who yearns to harm or thwart you,
You must, at a minimum,
Have remained anonymous—
You might want to consider
This as having been a gift.
You sit on a sun-warmed stone
At the edge of a mesa
Looking off into blue west
And you are not there, not there
At all, except as something
Real. Real but unknown—ideal
Among the ways of being—
To be but to not be known.