On the Way Up

This is the last time I will be anything but

doubtful of anyone who isn’t you,

whoever you are, wherever, in that endless

moment, looking in through pain, glassy but

certain, high: mounting to climb a long way

alone. I know that we are strangers and will

probably be old or dead or nothing before we

can rest from the climb. But I’ll keep going,

on this lonely road that I have chosen, seeking up,

going my own way and thinking always of you.

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