Life’s an upward struggle, and it makes it so much rougher when the ladder you find yourself climbing is beset by lonely weather. When every other rung is off doing other things, the solitude and altitude bring to mind desolation and the emptiness that brings.
No matter the genius emanating from ivory minds, the smartest man among us often finds that brilliance unfiltered clogs up the system, when others must consume the lonely perfume of conceits kept alone, while the common thoughts stay collected like so many sheep in a pen that’s separated from self-same lonely thoughts, that genius oft encounters, left only amongst the happiness that fills up life’s happy coffers.
So it goes that lofty ideals become frostbitten by snowcapped mountains of emptiness. Others seek the heights together only during pleasant weather, while those who trounce through snow-packed trails must brave the climes alone tempted only by fate, to descend to summits more frequent than the peaks of accomplishment.
Gangrenous lips cannot utter the chilled revelations of those left above too long. So it is left to those below, not inferior from the altitude, just more likely acclimated to the difficult, dull journey of those who spare pristine slopes for the sullied, muddied slush on the tourist trails below.