Higher, ever higher
Climbing at the pace of
The rock itself, looking
In vain for weaknesses, flaws
Any chance to gain a foothold.
Water trickles down a promising channel
Not there, it won’t share
Shadows are an ally, revealing depth
Holding the weight of a man
On the width of a hair
The wind roars, powered by the wall itself
Your grip, that tenuous cling to life itself, falters
The wind dies, and you remain, seemingly
As immortal as the granite itself
But as fleeting as the wind, now long gone
-Grace
Thank you for visiting. Before you go, please submit a story idea for me to munch on for the next post!
-Grace
Thank you for visiting. Before you go, please submit a story idea for me to munch on for the next post!
I am not that great at interpreting poetry, however, what I get out of this is that there is a challenge that a man must overcome but he finds himself caught in the wind and doesn't know where his life went. It seems as if he wishes to seek an escape, but "falters". I could be wrong, though. I love the art in your writing.
ReplyDeleteAre you a rock climber, Grace? At least that's what your poem suggests but I could be completely wrong. Regardless, you are a wonderful creative writer. Your pieces are beautiful and I look forward to reading more. How about a poetic take on your favorite food?
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