Spirit Past
Despite the bellow of loved ones,
you've chosen to go it alone.
Thus far you've immunity to folly and mishap.
Now you're long overdue but nobody knows
you've left no itinerary nor coordinates
There'll be no search and rescue
upon that avalanche of arrogance.
The pickaxe has slipped from your hand
sliding into the sweet blackness.
Days layer upon a twist of broken bones
Blue ice licks its own thickness into a groan.
You've reached the black pinnacle of the purist alone.
Under a robin's egg sky
on the throat of icy cliffs
The alpinists ascend
a blizzard of sorrow and bliss.
Sowing a string of prayer flags
into the white heart soil of spirit pass.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2025
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