The Climber

November 21, 2017

Cracked, flaked granite isolated from the city lights.
An early morning in the woods
Time slows from the quickened pace of modern life
to the natural crawl that was intended.

The trail tightens and becomes steep.
As he comes to the top of a hill
the early sunlight shines upon a blank face,
orange and reflecting

The weight is lifted and he is free.
Adversity fades
The mind broadens and his eyes lock in.
seeking the minor blemishes in nature's familiar face.

Beginning to ascend the rock face
White, powdered connectivity
leaves the only trace of his journey on the stone.
He nears the top and continues pushing,
Arms throbbing, heart pounding.

Nothing between him and the jagged earth.
The last push. He grips onto nothing.
His foothold gives out with a crunch
A 30 foot grounder ceases with a thud
The rock face now towering over him

The slow, delicate movement of the clouds was now all he could see
And all he would see, but he now found clarity

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