Ensconced in the chair, walking outside
The same trees, paths, people are there
Within the walls of this strange prison
The mind clutches its nerves in despair.
As words, stories, songs gather
In a corner of the head, silently
Little does the back feel
The wings of wisdom growing, slowly.
A trekker is stranded, for days
A snow blizzard howls outside
As tent flaps flutter, food runs thin
Shuddering, waiting for it to subside.
The time is robbed by the storm
Spent surviving an ordeal so grim
Little does the trekker know
Of the warrior settling within.
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the high altitude wallflower 
You are excellent
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Oh I’m so glad you think so!
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