|
| |
The Weight of Heights
They called him a child of the sky,
a storm-born spark, a rising sun
His steps were light, his hands were quick,
he climbed before he learned to run
The world below had sung his name,
its voices laced with awe and might
You’ll reach the peak they whispered low,
where all the stars align in light
He climbed through fire, through fractured bone,
through sleepless nights that burned like day
And at the top, at last, he swore
there’d be no farther left to stray
But summits blur, and clouds deceive,
each height unfolds another gate
Above him, figures loomed like wraiths,
their flesh decayed, yet climbed for weight.
And so he clings, too proud to fall,
too lost to chase another flight.
He wonders if the climb was worth
a life spent fearing a lesser height.
Copyright ©
Ramdas Singh
|
|