Sharpest Peaks, Body But Half Decayed

Coldest mountains, sharpest peaks Lonely, quiet there does lie A better end it still seeks Body under light blue sky Its corpse has flown far and wide Glassy eyes and foggy skin Tumbling through river tide None are there, no next of kin The valley has mountain walls Forever trapped, a ravine So far down, echoing calls None can hear his shadow scream Water cold, it runs solid Spirit wanders far away Body kept almost flawless Tired corpse is here to stay Freezing water so no decay Slowly comes the summer melt Maggots gnaw his hope away Hardened face begins to welt Winters coming fast again Who he was, none can tell Here a hiker now and then Body, now, just a symbol Only few pay respects Helping others escape his fate Tourists, with different dialects Though for him it’s much too late Till this day the cold has trapped Valley, his coffin he’s made In a mountain, quite unmapped A man, but only half decayed