***
There's alwaysAnother mountain,
Indifferent and silent,
Summoning the same man.
The pull of the climb
Is all he has ever known.
He doesn't spare a moment
To mourn the valleys left behind.
But it's lonely at the top.
Breathless, he stops.
The silence rushes in.
He mourns those who fell behind.
The drifting clouds morph into faces,
The ones who didn't come along,
They must have understood his eagerness,
As he understood their reluctance.
Then the clouds move on.
And so does he.
The clear sky has shown him
Another mountain waiting.
***
A poem dedicated to... mountains?
What do you think? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

Comments
Post a Comment