We see mountains in the distance and decide they're something to climb,
We see opertunity within grasp and claim "it must be mine",
But these are shimmering mirages with the lustre of fools gold,
They are stairways painted on walls which hope they do enclose,
Holding dear within those smoke forged prey we create to catch so fast,
But time withers our realm and reach by our past,
But lasting thoughts are there as ghosts and remain to haunt,
Strengthened by those on mountaintops who decide that they should flaunt,
And taunt us with false wisdom that they preach,
So I know now there are mountaintops I'll never reach.