Old Mountain

Cold is the snow, under my feet Blades are the wind, at my skin Cane is the object, guiding me through Beauty is the hope, I will see Rocks I grab, along my way Fear is evident, in unending fall Strength fills old bones, to push on Ice blisters convert, my face to stone A slip, I have no breath The voice, has pulled me to My cane bent, I make a step Glory, is the situation One final leap, amazed Every mountain ever made, shines Light combines with air, old eyes reflect Stars shine, no restraint exists This is the peak, beauty Every color unknown, hangs in a misty cradle My blued sight illuminates, I feel not but warmth I grip the ice, and look on at god forever