The mountain  stands before me,

The path rising,

Step by step.

My eyes only see a little way.


I wear chains,

Each link forged by me or for me,

Each a judgement.


The clink like broken bells

As I shuffle through the dark and cold,

The old and rusted against the smooth and new.

The past rising.

Rising before me

Step by step.


I sway and clank as I take the first step.


My foot lands next to a feather.

I bend and touch it and the oldest, rustiest link,

So old and worn to nothing,

Snaps and falls off.


I take a step up.

I take the feather and lose the link.


I take a step.

Take the feather, lose the link.


It seems I climb for years

But I move swifter with each step

The path rising before me.



I stand at the edge of the edge of the world.

Below, the clouds mark the path of the wind.

The path no longer rises.

The last step marks my choice.




Arms full of feathers,

On the path littered with chain;



The long way up might lead to a swift fall.



No more easy steps,

Or hard steps.


No more steps at all.


I put on my feathers,mesa-984500_1920 (1)

And leap….