(On observing Mt Everest)
Why does one press to climb?
Enduring raw tortured skin
while lungs gasp needle thin air.
Your bones ache with stress and fatigue.
The pain, the peril
ever deepen,
press the soul.
“Because it’s there,” notwithstanding,
it is madness to be sure,
especially because you are not the first.
I press my soul to climb.
My skin is shredded, and my
lungs inhale stabbing torment.
These bones cry and bend to breaking.
The pain, the peril
ever deepen,
press the soul.
Calvary is for the climbing,
never madness to be sure,
especially because I am not the first.