It was a long climb up the mountain, cumbersome too
I used golf shoes, bought in a second hand shop, which
On reflection will endorse, but it had leather uppers
It was tiring, yet had no choice it was my mountain,
there were dark moment when I felt like giving up, but
the alternative was melancholy of the uncompleted.
I finally made it the top had no snow and whirling fog
made it impossible to see and hear anything but my
laboured breathing and colourless wind of nothingness.
It the way life is, those on the top see little of what is
going on, one has to go down to ground level to see
and understand that love needs fertile soil to thrive.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (the vista by oskar hansen )
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