The Peak, Part II
...The peak is standing clear above,
scrub trees fading to rock,
But now the sun beats down on me,
so I stop to take stock.
Will I find something way up there
that I cannot see here?
The sooner I start down again,
the sooner I'll have beer.
Yet I find my feet still going,
muscle like ground wire,
a stitch cramp forming in my ribs,
feels like breathing fire.
Half-hunched scaling the gray bedrock,
all thought gone but the climb,
can't see the beauty around me,
there's no space in my mind.
Each knoll another false summit,
brings out another groan,
I'm too old to just laugh this off,
stabbing pain in my bones.
Must be a form of true madness
to have pushed on this far,
no wonder most folks are content
just staying where they are.
I see no more rock before me,
just sky and rolling peaks,
my mind struggling to catch up,
register what it sees.
The whole world laid out in color,
and I'm above it all,
seeing things that most others won't,
too afraid that they'd fall.
I see now why some folks like it,
and struggle up this way,
a great effort once accomplished
inside will never fade.
All the peaks unfold around me,
I find a patch of ground,
think I'll just stay up here a bit,
no rush to get back down...
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2019