The steps arose,
a base there was
the muddle of screes
For it was a landscape
Vacant,
Of trees
Gingerly I paced
a cliff that laced
a path destined,
Told, I was
For a few sunrises
and sunsets
Firmed to the locus
stood there, I had.
By degrees
the cliff
obsecured my view
the bewilderment I could not rub
Mayhap, myself scrutinized it far deep
I thought.
the cliff,
for unyielding it depicted
percepting apprehensions, of own
promising it portrayed
Afresh, the climb excecuted
Little by little,
embarked the escarpment
it was still,
dormant
so I too, adjourned
It spoke to me
for footsteps,
no longer scraped
"W'rry not, I shall holdeth thee"
and,
reverberations
igniting the specks of fragility
for I queried myself
if this voyage is my to ascend