You hiked a mountain.
How long can you sit at the top before you stop feeling?
The greatest moment is the first.
You begin descending the moment you arrive.
It is the difference, the sheer difference
between a nearly conquered foe and a conquered one
that makes you feel.
And for one moment, you are alive.
But life is borrowed, then returned.
It isn't yours; it isn't earned.
You seek for pain to feel the difference.
A "high" has no where to go, but down
and a "low," no where but up.
Will you experiment with lows?
...to feel the difference?
or claw the air for matter still to climb?
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1 comment:
Joe,
If someone hadn't climbed the mountain, your poem wouldn't have the meaning. Both real and untangible mountains climbed have the same effect. It reminds me of the moment in "The persuit of Happiness," when the main character has a moment of happiness after getting the job.
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