Down this winding trail I tread,
Mountains rise towards the sky.
Their faces crusted with cold determination,
Stand unmoving, guarding its treasures,
Killing the daring and greedy.
The mountain I must climb.

Others take the quiet stream,
Around the rocks, in dainty sails,
Traveling the well worn path.
But not me.
Looking up towards the immobile beast,
Its daunting peak pierces me.
The mountain only I can climb.

Walking up the steep slope alone,
Jagged rocks and unstable soil
Threaten to derail me.
Vicious creatures loom in shadows,
Fighting to feast on me.
Danger lurks in every creek,
The rocks present another threat,
Or the rain or cold or sun or snow.
But I must keep climbing.

Higher and higher my legs carry me,
Above the trees and white cotton clouds.
I scan the horizon for those dainty sails,
But something else catches my eyes.
The few lone strangers living high in the sky
Offer me a respite.
But I keep climbing.

I stare out into the open sky,
Gazing at the unfolding beauty
Dancing beneath my eyes.
I gasp for breath in the ever thinner air,
Standing amazed by the world I see.
Burning reds and warm yellow orange;
Lush greens and crisp blues,
Soaring eagles, lifted by wings,
World's natural beauty, untainted.
But there is still more to see.
Keep climbing.

The peak looms in front of me.
The final treasure I desperately seek,
But I start to fall.
Fall.
Fall.
Fall.
As I land on the ground, broken,
As the mountain stands over me,
Gloating at it's definite victory,
I look to its face and know:

It is not about the victory,
Or the uncertainty and unseen danger,
Or the new beast to beat.
It is not about the fall or shaken faith.
There will always be another mountain,
But if you ask me,
Life's about the climb.