in the midst of
scaling the heights
of love's tower
and touting it's
power
at some point
into acclimation
one's purpose
for escalation
can become lost
too high of an altitude
can bring about
gasps...
short breaths
from thin air
a cold
so brisk
that it seeps
deeply
past protective gear
raised chills
that burn from pain...
with the claws of cold
a companion of void
settles...
a loud cognizance of one's place
amid nothing,
seeks attention
how, now...does the climb
still hold substance?
whilst looking
for evidence
of love's stretch...
how does one
defeat the demon
of whispered solitude?
the heated impetus
set to give hope to the hopeless
crystallizing...
seizing and freezing out
the belief
that love lies
atop a mountain of obstacles
waiting to be validated...
snuffed out,
by the ascension of
a hurried sense to feed
a worried and dense need...
what occurs...
in the midst of
this sojourn
for love's pinnacle...
is a tinge of deliberation
to loosen the secured fasts
and just fall...
descend with the speed of doubt
more breath stolen
the heart,
imploding from the pressure...
the heart,
beating so fast
that it stills...
flailing and falling
...the end
surely to be met
with spiritual death
no longer adept
in the heights and depth
of love and it's armored vest...
how about,
this daredevil...
repel from the top
and stop.
...why even dare to care?
what will the world have lost,
if i chose to sit
indian style...
at the base of cynicism
and bitter regret
and let the waters
of wasted emotion
drown my champion?
why should i fight to climb?
when it seems...
everyone else
pays love no mind
