Old mountain

Cold is the snow, under my feet
Blades are the wind, at my skin
Cane is the object, guiding me through
Beauty is the hope, I will see

Rocks I grab, along my way
Fear is evident, in unending fall
Strength fills old bones, to push on
Ice blisters convert, my face to stone

A slip, I have no breath
The voice, has pulled me to
My cane bent, I make a step
Glory, is the situation

One final leap, amazed
Every mountain ever made, shines
Light combines with air, old eyes reflect
Stars shine, no restraint exists

This is the peak, beauty
Every color unknown, hangs in a misty cradle
My blued sight illuminates, I feel not but warmth
I grip the ice, and look on at god forever

Reviews

[Christina May Shanaberg]

The poem reminds me of the beautiful and breath-taking view from Paradise atop Mount Rainier in Washington State. I was so amazed that just below Paradise you can walk on frozen Tipsoo Lake, in the summertime, wearing sandals, a tank top, and shorts. The awesome beauty of nature tells me that God exists and I know that I am part of His plan. Lovely poem; I enjoyed it.

[*Always be Me:)*]

I really like this Justin. its very beautiful. :) nice work! keep it up!!