See that mountain up ahead

The one you reach while still in bed

Claw your weight up the iced trek

And snap the sinew in God’s neck

You will make Him hang up there

A disfigured corpse freed from care

His head fallen to the side

Like the Moon ripped down to her tide

And then you will be alone

No conscience gnawing at your bone

Just you on your mountaintop

One step removed from your last drop

But if you just stand in place

Close your eyes and defy His face

You will be the snow clad king

Grendel’s face inscribed on your ring

A fossil god hikers find

When freed from your snow blanket bind

Taken down and thawed in fire

The crackling flame your heaven’s choir

Till your sinew snaps in two

And your own head falls to your shoe

Your fate and God’s intertwined

Where the snow drifts so soft and kind

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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