The hill to mount
beauty inviting a climb
where snow is covering
volcanic slopes
with gravity gracefully syruping flow
from upward where I should go
Tectonic surges compiled urges
to be and not to be
beyond questions of pain or blister
barren hills and high desert will
not a drop of water in hell
or communists do tell
Anything about summits that free
with trails covered in vines and forests
waterfalls and broken trees
deadfall delays and pointless concerns to see
atop is downhill, another side
thinner air and something with pride
Proprietary rights dashed by communal plans
as organisms take over what is left of man
the vertex is a corner
for temporal mourners
who’ve assembled from a burbled deficit financed base
to become Zarathustras of no other place.
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