This height,

This damn height.

Whenever I look down and see people walking up the trail,

Slowly, oh so slowly,

Climbing, higher and higher,

When I watch as their faces light up,

Another step another victory.

They always feel like cheering,

Like celebrating the occasion,

And my heart weeps.

Step by step,

Up that long, winding trail,

And they wish to celebrate?

And here I am,

Alone at this height,

Waiting, gathering dust,

Forgetting what it was that led me up those steps,

And they want to celebrate.

It wrenches my soul apart,

That beneath me is where they built the civilization,

Beneath me is where they celebrate achievement.

At this height there is no celebration,

There’s only the passing of moments,

And stewing in your own thoughts.

There’s only the preparation,

For when the heavens decide to take a bite out of me,

There’s only the waiting to be humiliated by my betters,

But it is beneath me!

Where civilization celebrates!

The passing of the year,

The birthday of a loved one,

The achievement of education.

I may have been blinded,

Beneath me could be higher than I realize.