You’re slippery and treacherous
and riddled with sharp burrs.
And I keep slipping as I climb,
and it’s irritating.
But I’ve yet to fall down you,
although my lungs hurt from lunging.
My legs hurt from hauling myself
up your steep angle.
The thing about you
great hill of the unknown
is that you’re never ending…or until I die.
I’m on a steep bit of you now,
but you’ve got plenty-a-plateau along your crooked spine –
and while they ease my aching body
and give me some time to breath,
I’ll once again yearn for that great angle of
trudging, learning, and tripping up.
Because it’s then when I look up at you…
I look up.