Mt Meru

Cold fingers maul the spirit of those ascending

but up they come anyway.

the lord of the rings

stands in awe at the ranges vast expanse,

the snow covering the faces and peaks,

the only parts not covered in snow

are the rock patches to steep

for the driving wind and ice to

adhere to.

the range untouched,

over looked and looked over

by those whose eyes are set toward

the heavens,

missing what is at their doorstep.

the rushing water of unfrozen snow runs

down, ever downward,

toward the sea.

gravity calling it home.

gravity will eventually pull everything down,

but for now the peaks stand untouched,

unclimbed, unsubmitting.

Faces all around,

in the trees,

on the hands,

let them be,

whispers the wind,

let them be.

ignoring the warning, they kick-step

a staircase to the rock.

equipment rattling,

tiny clouds of moisture leave their lungs

the partial air adding another

unseen enemy.

upward they climb.

wiggling into the psyche,

is the worm of doubt.

can it be done,

should it be done,

and biggest,

will it be us that does it?

there are somethings not

no matter how ready you are,

how much work you have done before hand,

 simply don't come to be.

this is not one of them

this came to pass,

they did it,

climbed the mountain above the lord of the rings.