descent
On the way down,
the mountain grows taller behind me.
Perspective is a trickster like that.
I feel lighter, though
nothing in my pack has changed.
Only the weight of my thoughts has shifted.
At the trailhead,
I turn once more to
the looming shape above me.
The mountain says nothing.
And somehow,
that is enough.
Poetry by anonface
Read 89 times
Written on 2026-01-11 at 13:01
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Griffonner |
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Melinda K Zarate |
