The mountains were high
Raised beyond the sight of man.
Far above the clouds
Elevated past the height of sound
As I climbed
I dared look down.
From things I involved
Things just passing through
Things that were placid
Some things that were good.
Some things brought more pain
Some brought distraught duties.
Some brought joys to life
Some brought nothing to gain.
Some were most evident
More than I could handle
I'd taken on more than I should
But I'd climbed much farther
Much farther....
Than even I...
Than even I thought I would.
Someone offered a complaint
About its hard rock edges.
I was glad to see them
Forcing my fingers
Into its deep narrow crevices.
Then even the mountain
Begin to shake and rumble
Then from nowhere came the rains.
First the drizzle
Then the downpours
And the loud thunder.
I'd become rapidly aquainted
To the excellence of this mountain
I had made it a door.
A door to teach patience
A door to show strength
A door exibiting character.
Then I saw my foot slipping
I felt I was loosing it.
I was loosing it..
My Mountain lost its grip.
Cecelia Weir
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-mountain/
