the man who wore his grit
I watched him,
I witnessed him placing,
foot atop foot,
hand over weeping hand
his limbs his lungs spitting away the onyx,
bounding, scaling angled to the concord it wishes,
this man conquered stone and slate
whittled it as water does,
and he ran the unforgiving, the un-runnable walls,
into the foggy spires clefting its face
clawing at finite
I watched him
until finally he broke the mist,
and beseating his hams, he wiped
the blood in some bright snow,
a white tapestry quietly frayed beneath him…
once more,
he heard the birds sing