He landed the river port with the porters,
Alone, coming here not helpers.
Taking a sailing ship at Indus,
For seeking the land for another limbus
In the eastern place of the far away.
He walked and walked the forest way.
For long time with a few porters, he climbed the mountain
They wiped the sweat and drank the fountain,
He looked down the landscape far away
And he sat and prayed under sunny ray,
For a while, he stood and downed the hill
With the porters and stayed when he found the vill.
Every day he met the farmers
Every night he talked with the villagers.
He held the rosary and hung the cross necklace
And talked the God and a lamb which’s fleckless.
People called him a man of folding his hands
And he’d obeyed the order to the far eastern lands.
He returned but the traces’re left on the petroglyphs,
The neckless statue and letters on stone cliffs.
The letters “Thomas who’s prayer” to God,
And the Gotaya means the old cell of God.
Owing to his effort, we can meet his trace
And it’ll be the Eastern Jerusalem, this place.
(Feb., 10th, 2024, Kinsley Lee)