This my our journey.
Ice...
Jutting miles towards the heavens.
Above the jet stream.
Higher than most airliners fly,
Up and beyond,
The pinnacle of our love,
Is the closet to the stars.
I am lured by its magnificence,
I am attracted by the challenge.
Even though there is a chance,
I wont survive.
Storm winds blow 100 miles per hour,
Pounding it's victims,
With triple digit wind chills,
And zero visibility.
Every climber dies a little.
Fighting a losing battle against cachexia,
Because above 18 000 feet,
Cuts never heal,
The body depletes,
The air is so dry,
A cough literally fractures a ribs.
Weathering such unfriendly conditions
Is...
The ultimate test.
There is a 99% chance,
That I'll fail the quest.
But I promise
I'll do,
My best.