I am alone up there
Where my old soul is bare
Brittle to the cold gusts
Howling whispers at dusk
Left alone to my thoughts
Broken rocks in six pots
Spread across the mountain
Like flowers on a grave
I climbed up to my god
Silhouette man in fog
A soul of lighted words
Silver winged fantasies
And hopes, always my hopes
A heart spent on old tropes
So what did I find there?
Nothing, but iced cold wind
No peaceful solitude
Just a dark interlude
Before I had to leave
This altar of reprieve
And return to the ground
On my way to the mound
Where my old bones will rest
When I have failed the test
But even as I walk
Through this valley of mine
I look up now and then
Like a chick with no hen
I see the mountaintop
Where once I had stood tall
A dead rock in a cloud
God behind a white shroud
After He has passed by
Catcher left in his rye
With nothing but his dream
And spent spunk on his seam
I am alone up there
And frankly do not care
