The Nirwana Cave Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I am a wanderer, I hike
the world around me, and all per pedes,
they did suggest a mountainbike,
some even said a big Mercedes.

One day I had just left a ridge,
and saw the valley far below,
a copse of shrubs made up a bridge
reminding me of Manchukuo.

'Twas slippery on the Iliac Crest,
an Inny sat there, beautiful,
perhaps a very tiny nest
to suit a biomolecule.

Innominates, they called this range,
formidable in its size,
to me this region still was strange
each stop revealed a new surprise.

Mons Pubis said the sign in pink,
or was it Fuchsia, can't recall
it seemed I had now reached the brink
of the volcano, one could fall,

as soft conditions now prevailed
a bit of moisture on the ground,
but what a sight, all treasures paled
it was Nirwana I had found.

A cave, well hidden though from view
was open and I stooped to see,
and there I stood, without a clue
of what this treasure meant to me.

And, as you read this card, my friend
I've settled here, as a recluse.
To stay in peace until the end
it's something I would always choose.