Haleakala

A group of twelve stands on the summit drinking tea, staring at the moon, it wasn’t difficult to see.

As we descended our way down Sliding Sands, I had strangest feeling in my hands. Looking out across the rim, I saw cows in the mist standing, looking slim.

Feeling the ability to transcend space and time, having an outer body experience was our only crime.

As we reached the crater floor, all of us looked at each other in amazement knowing there was yet still more. To the ladder we would go, down deep into the Earth’s lungs few know.

Sitting quietly in pitch black, the sound of OMing was our only way back. As we reached the tunnels end, there was still more to come around the bend.

As the sun rose on the crater’s rim, we rejoiced in knowing who we really are. Just another seven miles up Switchbacks to get back to our lonely car.

A. Stroeve

by Alan Stroeve

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