Life emerged in the mountains in a trickle
many barriers to buckle
united with good friends we were going,
somewhere I guess.
I moved with them, not to be left alone.
The unlucky ones remained behind
to die a premature death
Through rocks and boulders
we made our way,
we had begun scaling our ambition,
translated in our rendition.
I broke off and emptied myself into the ocean first
watching others come behind
in varying degrees of enervation.
I am now trapped in this ocean of doom
with many others I scarcely know.
Does life always need an ending ? I ask the mountains.
Hey take me back, I want to start all over again.
The mountain doesn’t respond