Throne of DreamsAlone he stands upon the mountain,
Lost amidst a ghostly shroud,
Beaten by relentless spirits
His frost-bit face taut and knarled.
Trudging onwards, ever onwards,
He plants each step into the snow,
Straining every nerve and muscle,
Battling with an unseen foe.
Eyes transfixed and single-focussed
Summit-minded, like his dreams;
Climbing upwards, ever upwards
While thoughts flow cold in icy streams.
Set against the hardened mountain
That stole his spirit long ago,
That claimed a captive of his freedom
Imprisoning it within the snow.
Day after day, night after night
He contemplates the steppes alone â€“
Driven by an unseen torment,
Enraptured by a force unknown.
Spellbound by the arching summit
Which circles high and out of reach â€“
Always there but always distant
Yielding not its victorâ€™s wreath.
Until at last he walks no further,
Defeated by the mountainâ€™s soul.
And while it wraps its web around him
His hand still points towards its goal.
Devoid of every vital breath â€“
His chasmed heart dying screams
And with one final mighty effort
He reaches for his throne of dreams.
Poetry by Steve Hagget
Read 573 times
Written on 2014-08-31 at 11:45
Tags Mountains  Nature  Spirit
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