Walk up and down the mountain steppes,
Ice lakes reflecting souls,
Wandering in and out of clouds,
Feel the damp and cold.
I could have sworn, my Heart and Soul,
Were made for warmer climbs,
But the sun I see, here on the scree,
Is quite a different kind.
The climb I make out of my past,
Seems natural to me now.
With growing Will, my sun stands still,
Though I never made a vow.
My lady's warmth, a cup of joy,
Are partners as I travel,
So I climb these steppes, with no regrets,
And watch my past unravel.
2 comments:
this is rich. i especially like the last line and last word. what so many of us seek.
Thanks Ed. I in turn, have enjoyed your blog as well.
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