Sunday, January 16, 2011

with pen and paper, we climb

steps, light but rapid
shoulder my world when i am gone
the quest to reach towering places
a long, hard drive up and around
a simple parchment, syllables unbroken
into a meter worth repeating
a mile worth climbing
a life worth living
born of lives lived
and sacrifices offered

on the other side
a clear, blue lake
crystal clear
suffering not from those that swim in it
but from those that dance near it
after the climb
full of mead and mutton
drowned out by their own song
thinking it their mountain alone
as the parchment turns to ash
in the cover of darkness
in the mist of the mountain
gone forever, father,
gone forever

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