The time was now.
They all could see it in the glint of their eyes, in the angle of the sun, the terror in the deep sea.
Looking up, their eyes clawed, desperate to find another way, but they knew,
they all knew,
standing among each other, crammed as if in a barrel,
a very large, very full barrel,
that the only way to win, was to climb.
Flesh became platforms,
and nails essential.
They were each the others path,
each in a fight to complete the others way,
each on a mission to be ahead for a breath.
Their naked limbs torn apart, by nails and bites,
raw strength pulling open wounds,
in feeble attempts to gain a moments rest
on the feet of another.
The end approached, swifter than they knew,
but they kept climbing, exasperated, forgetting even why.
Adrenaline and sport, a spectacle of visions,
flashing in and out,
thunderous yells, cries,
the smell of sweat and tears,
of wet blood and spilled rivers.
And then, before they made it
All froze for eternity, condensed into a blind ignorance,
only to be forgotten and overlooked, climbed and claimed.
Frozen as giant granite, resting limbs pointing at the sky,
among low clouds, bare to the sun.
The ones highest up become white and cold,
early snows stay over the summer, fall over the winter and remain.
They stand tall and proud, as everlasting proof of their victory over the others,
they can look down upon their subordinates and smile.
Smile as they are walked on by ants
who call them beautiful
but nothing more.
Been a while, huh?
Yeah, I miss it too. I'm beginning to convince myself to write these regularly again. Still massively enjoy it when I do, so there's really no reason not to.
This was one I wrote in northern Spain during my vacation there, and it just popped out almost fully formed, after watching the mountains there.
But then I submitted it to my writing group and they all really loved it, so I finally pulled myself together and put it up here. It's definitely one of the good ones.
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