Dreams Of Ascent Poem by Daniel Brick

(I)

I have no mountains to climb
to see visionary vistas
from its height. High hills,
to be sure, abound, take us
beyond ourselves, however briefly,
but they are not a passageway to
transcendence. Their grassy summits
do not jut into higher spaces, but
cling to planetary surfaces.
Mountain are rooted in deep earth
but rise high above the surface
and achieve those summits, whose towers
pierce the realm of the high heavens.

(II)

Today I climbed, with my younger brother, the highest
mountain in this region. The only motive was the wish
to see what so great a height had to offer... Then
a new idea came to me: I began to think in terms of
Time rather than Space...

The Ascent of Mount Ventoux,1336,
Petrarch

The sky that late summer morning
was stained with a dull gray blur
that would not melt into the surreal
brightness just out of sight. So we
trudged onward and got exhausted
by early afternoon. Our guide, nimble
and fleet, laughed at our stumbling
gait, and prodded us forward,
despite the increased weight we carried
with each step upward. We persevered.
By mid afternoon, we stood, breathing
the shallow air, and looking over both
height and abyss. My brother and I
congratulated each other, as our guide
smiled over us. Then it was time to descend.
That night just before sleep, we confided
in each other, and discovered we had
identical thoughts on the the summit.
And we slid home on the same wave of feelings.