Mind-numbing motion The swell and the sway absolve The burdens of life
By Jacinth Ryse3 years ago in Poets
It's melancholy But it doesn't have to be It can be the sky
The tallest summit Long sought, worked towards, achieved New mountains await
High above we soar Our problems lay forgotten Mountains are mole hills
Breaking in the Wind Earthen grasp reaches skyward It's futile in the end
The crowd suffocates So climb to the top to find No air here either
You trip at the top And tumble all the way down To land in the dirt
So many down here A few can make it half way With one at the top
Vict’ry is lovely Ascend to the very peak Vict’ry is lonely
The foothills of ease The slopes of peril and growth The peak of vict’ry
Extend to the sky Escape the pressure below Embrace your center
Head and neck outstretched Shoulders and arms sweeping down Feet buried in dirt
