Mountain Poem

A spire stabs into the deep blue sky;
A tower, a steeple rising high.
Rock and snow give a stark appearance;
A fierce untamed beauty in every sense.

The freshest air upon those slopes is found,
The cold clean wind is the only sound.
It whirls and dances in pure bliss,
A touch and sound few know or miss.

Desolate and dangerous is he,
This mountain above the sea.
Here, each day lived is a victory
As a life defies nature’s fury.

He waits to be climbed by the brave.
Some for sure will find him their grave.
And many wonder why bear the pain.
What, on that summit, is there to gain?

Few understand a climber’s paradise,
To strive and reach the distant heights.
Some go alone, some together,
All with the same passionate fervor.

A spire stabs into the deep blue sky;
And I am there, higher than high.
Such joy, such exhilaration overflow my heart,
Worth the pain to find this place apart.