Heavy were my legs
and blistered were my souls
as I climbed
dropping stones and sweat
as I went.
An ascent, the carrot grew
sweetly downward
in your striking light
I rose to the events
put in my path.
Sequentially steeper
pushing me down
the air thins
and blood chills
glimpses in steam.
Packed and thrown
the key, precious ego sinks
reaping its slaughtered pleasures
deflowered by appetite
famished and sated.
Starvation and salvation
the lighter the load
only to reach
destiny's plateau
wilted and near weary.
Well, I didn't know
as good as it gets
is nowhere near Yet
Grace has wings
on Time she flies
passively Bye.
Image by Caspar David Friedrich [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, Owl on grave c. 1836.
