Desperately searching for that gold,
The treasure beneath the surface
Chiseling away with nothing but bare hands
Ripped and torn from the climb to get here
Making patterns like paintings in the rock face
But my blood means nothing
Blood cannot claim a mountain
But being the first to find his treasure can
So I dig, pry, and chisel
Slicing away at fingertips
Leaving paintings like sacrifices behind

Desperate, I slam my hands into the surface
If the mountain will not be mine
I will be his
Strength, anger, sadness, frustration,
and love
Smash into his surface.

My hands may be gone,
But the mountain,
The mountain bleeds back.