Throne of DreamsAlone he stands upon the mountain,
Lost amidst a ghostly shroud,
Beaten by relentless spirits
His frost-bit face taut and knarled.
Trudging onwards, ever onwards,
He plants each step into the snow,
Straining every nerve and muscle,
Battling with an unseen foe.
Eyes transfixed and single-focussed
Summit-minded, like his dreams;
Climbing upwards, ever upwards
While thoughts flow cold in icy streams.
Set against the hardened mountain
That stole his spirit long ago,
That claimed a captive of his freedom
Imprisoning it within the snow.
Day after day, night after night
He contemplates the steppes alone –
Driven by an unseen torment,
Enraptured by a force unknown.
Spellbound by the arching summit
Which circles high and out of reach –
Always there but always distant
Yielding not its victor’s wreath.
Until at last he walks no further,
Defeated by the mountain’s soul.
And while it wraps its web around him
His hand still points towards its goal.
Devoid of every vital breath –
His chasmed heart dying screams
And with one final mighty effort
He reaches for his throne of dreams.
Poetry by Steve Hagget
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Written on 2006-09-19 at 11:33
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