The Long Slow Way to the Summit

I took the trail marked
On my Ancestors' map
Along the long slow road
That winds its way

To the summit

Now snow drifts

Silently across my feet

As the Earth  

Reaching for the Sky
Vanishes into misty heights

This journey began on summer plains
Where church spires founded
In a fog of words
Stood in mute testament
To a mountain
That pierced the clouds

I saw Quality and Richness

Bloated to Avarice

Fed on Destitution

And the sound of Poverty

Keening ever louder

Cat fights, Competition

Abounded In

Incessant activity
And everyone spoke
In Trader Talk

My Ancestors whispered

Down deep corridors of time
They counseled me onward

 When no-one would go

  To turn around 

To silent heights

Where Winter snow billows

And stirs across the path

And my footsteps

Leave no trace