The dark of the sky      drifting over me;
heavy with feeling,      lightness of being.

I might see further,      should I bounce belief
on the bending rule      and raise my thinking.

To venture into     darkness is frightful
but I know that that      is where light is born.

A lone wanderer,      forgotten by time,
I throw myself like      dust into the wind.

A heavy thought is      dropped into the mind.
When it becomes light     it will resurface.

In the stretch of time,      I sow my seeds so
I may leave my life     like light leaves the sun.

I'm disabled and     frozen with anger.
Like ice you've returned     to arrest my rage.

I climb. Although a harsh wind and sleet sweeps
  these hills, my temperament remains steady.
Although the path is treacherously steep
  I have been thoughtful, I have come ready.
The footfall here is few and far between
  and some who came to conquer, could not cope.
As I push on past the point where they've been,
  I look into a mist that holds my hope.
Joy lies beyond a helm wind of despair
  and must be battled with to be surpassed.
I will prevail here knowing that it's there.
  I’ll conquer fell and fall so I’ll be passed
to where tranquillity abounds below,
  throughout the valleys of the rain shadow.

All is silent; still is the deep of night.
  I look below, cannot see what I feel
beneath my feet. One prevailing insight,
  known only in a sense, goes unrevealed.
I do not fear its truth, neither contest
  it does not know me. Within it, I stand.
An absurd sureness, an uninvited guest,
  has touched the base of what I understand,
now all mind and motion acts in tandem.
  I taste the salt of the air, feel the breeze,
the oceans rhythm becomes who I am.
  Rhythm becomes me, puts the mind at ease.
I feel the calm, hear the call of the night,
  look above, see stars amongst the moonlight.

The storm has passed. Its     surrender was swift
as chalk wiped away     from a wet, slate board.

What haunts the hollow     hallway of dark hours
fails again. A friend,     not fear, grips me.

The more I mean it     the more my will melts,
with resolute strength,     square's into circles.

The unwavering     will, awoken by
a thousand threats, is     shook but never thrown.

Chills of the northern wild are rough to those
  who have no guidance or are ill-equipped
to scale the steep incline and climb exposed
  the high fells reach. No rock is lightly gripped
when every failure seeks to see me fall;
  No step is taken to be a mistake.
For what is needed to ascend this wall
  is slow to learn and hard to undertake.
Joy lies beyond the helm wind of despair
  and must be battled with to be surpassed.
So I’ll prevail here knowing that it's there.
  I’ll conquer fell and fall so I’ll be passed
to where tranquillity abounds below,
  throughout the valleys of the rain shadow.

In the hem and haw     of hesitation,
a lull of cloud hangs     low and lingering.

Curious clusters     of uncurled tendrils
traverse the trellis,     touched to feel their way.

Burnt ochre, brittle     and blackened since bloom.
In death's repose, the     roses are refined.

Decaying by the     cove, a crowd of leaves,
content and concealed     in traps of comfort.

The branches quiver,     clinging to cold roots.
Strength surfaces from     the sinuous deep.

The mirror becomes interesting when
  the face it's held toward is like a  
reflection of the self. If it isn't, then
  their image is defeated, dulled and grey,
subdued in that they are of little worth.
  Thus, only with attention can you shine.
But what attracts also destroys, gives birth
  to collision. The reason I can’t find time
to show you how your colour can burn bright
  is because you're not willing to let me.
I know how the dark tones become highlights
  and feel you should't fear uncertainty.
Instead, realise the potential that’s there
  if you do not discolour what we share.