The Mountain

High and mighty

The summit looms overhead,

The ominous whistling of the coming storm

Fills me with dread.

Uncertainty wells up 

As I face the distant summit ahead,

Knowing the tasks I face

May remain uncompleted.

 

But I know I must attempt

As I gaze at this impending quest.

Either way I will know

I put myself to the test.

 

So I begin to climb

I start at the base

As the wind and the storm rage

I can only brace 

Myself algainst the conditions

As I glimpse a trace

Of the summit above

 

It was a grueling journey

But not one I regret

Because the view from the top

Was one I will never forget.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

lbburton

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