Tuesday, August 23, 2022

Upon that empty mountainside.

 Climb. Climb. Climb.

Upon a mountainside.

Heavy, the burden, upon my back.

Heavy, heavier, heavier.

Heaviest — one day, will take me down.

Up an ever steeper — steeper — steeper slope.

Climb, I say, Climb, I do,

As taunts come from the valleys,

And even from the mountaintops.

Climb, climb, climb.

Ever harder. Ever hard. Ever the slope goes up.

Ever heavier the pack on my back.

Ever louder, the baying about.

Climb. Climb. Climb.

I continue up. Tears within my heart and soul. 

Climb. Climb. Climb.

Upon the lonely mountainside.

Heavy. Heavier. Heaviest.

And one day I will not be able to go on.

Climb. Climb. Climb.

Upon the mountainside. 

Climb, I say, Climb I do.

Today, I must go on. Today, I must go on.

Today, I must go on. For today, I still can.

Even though I know soon enough in time,

The clock will tick, and my heart will beat,

And will it be that one last time,

That I climb, climb, climb upon that emptying mountainside. Upon that empty mountainside.

Prose by Marc Evan Aupiais

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