this mountain

the mountain
is beautiful and
you believe that
you can climb it
easily. it's lush
and green at
the bottom, there
is snow on top.
the mountain is a
postcard of beauty
against the open
blue sky.
everyone knows this
mountain, they come
to stare at it, to
be in her presence.
and so you begin,
you take nothing
with you but what
you've learned
from other mountains
you have tried to scale,
your ignorance is bliss.
and you climb, one foot
in front of the other,
one hand over the next,
and quickly, before you
know it you are past
the soft start,
the easy part, the worn
paths where others
have come and failed,
the thick cluster
of trees, and shrubs,
the noisy slush of stream
are below you, but
you go further, wanting
more, and the air
begins to thin, your feet
slip. the rocks are sharp,
you look downward when
you reach the halfway point,
but you can't turn around
now. you want more
of this mountain, you
want to embrace and
know her soul,
you want to get to
the top and see the view
from there, to be loved
in return. you want
to know what it is
like to have it all
and isnt that what
love is? so you keep
going, but you are out
of breath, your limbs
ache with cold, your
lips are blue, and
clouds of warm air
escape from your lungs
like poetry. your hands
bleed from the sharp
edges of rocks, your
feet have no where
to stand, they are
numb from climbing.
your face is pressed
hard against the silent
mountain, your heart
beats faster. there is
only the wind that
blows you from side
to side and fills
you with fear. dark
wings of birds hover
nearby, waiting for
you to fall. you no
longer see the beauty
in her. what you thought
about her has changed.
she is dangerous and
cunning, but still you
press on. your head
is in the clouds, you
are delirious on this
mountain, you squint your
eyes into the harsh sunlight
and see that the peak
is still so far away,
the mountain owns you
now, and she knows it,
you can't go up, you
can't go back down.
you have lost your way.