The White
Crisp white crunchy steps do breach,
the silken touch of virgin snow,
breath in clouds of billowing mist,
as laboured air from altitudes high are sewn;
and the white glimmers like tiny crystal jewels,
sun the beams to mirror balls
flashing through the blue,
and fresh this chilled and struggling atrophy,
such beauty atop the clouds.
Legs like stumps, digits numb,
face all red and lashes iced to bare,
tiny little stalactites, shatter when I blink and stare;
and clouds are like vast landscapes,
pure white on vibrant blue,
as if hills from here to eternity,
we can walk forever, on air and sun endure;
and my heart it beats with purpose, loud,
pressed but yearning more, up here is heaven’s gate.
Each breath a sharp and painful take,
yet so clean it cleanses every cell, remake,
and the view reminds me of omniscient vows,
the touch of the divine in every direction,
each breath an acceptance of resurrection,
each step a valued pilgrimage of life;
and above the world is silence,
a separate stream from the chaos,
and I am humbled to be here, in this pristine breath of life.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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Such majestic beauty the mountains and snow, inspiring such masterful poetry. Lovely verse, Tony.
I loved it up there on Mt Titlus, so beautiful and you can see forever. Glad you enjoyed it.