Where do I go now?  I don't know how or why or where they come from. But they are here. Calling. Have called. Did call. I know where I was and what I did. March. March. March. Like a Hobbit into Mordor. Will they call again? Will I throw the ring in the fire? My passion? My precious? My burning desire?

My head is filled with never ending numbers. Integrals. Derivatives. Gaussian Eliminations. Questions. Who was Gauss? Why was he eliminated? To illuminate the dark corners, the caves and roofs lurking in the forest of my mind. Ever on. Ever on. Ever more.

I am sore. Perhaps it is not the light but (the dark) which (drives. My mind) imagines unending chalkless boulders. Movement frozen in stone. Unseen. Polynomials. The crumbs of the Earth's crumbling crust. Once churned in the burning fire. Tumbling chunks. Spilled out from the uncaring depths of the ice fields. Yawning maw of their gaping crevasses. Their bowls, their cirques, their masses. Their cwms. Their drumlins. The booms of their ice-water calving. A kiss, a kiss, such pitiless bliss. Indifferently spit. Spit out. Rock, rock. R o  c   k asunder. Leaving me in fear and wonder. Pursuit of poets. Apparatus of apes. Created. By God, I create.

Frost spoke of the road less traveled by. The one I took so long ago. The one that has led me here. Into the darkness. Into the light. Through a bramble of numbers. A forest of muck. A thicket of thoughts. A copse in the gloaming. A corpse. Not yet. Not yet, still roaming.

I bubbled up (like a human). Hominid, am I. Opposable. Oppositional. My psyche slithered like a luminous snake in the black. Where do (I go? Climbing.