Upward,high,I move.
Treading the weedy and filthy path.
Jittery,fear,have I at stake.
Stumps,rocky stones grace the way.
Sore feet,but I trek on.
Scorpions and serpents hate,
As their territory, I invade.
Tendrils, wild hemps lay as traps.
Fear not,say I to self.
Cracking toes weep for the heated earthen mud.
Fried,made crispy by the scorching sun.
Close by,is a cold stream,
there to calm my nerves.
Bejeweled with...
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