Sunday, October 24, 2010
Mountains shatter. The water freezes, widening cracks until the talus crashes down. We wait below the cliff. As if the wind, pressing the crags and turrets, would finally tell the truth. But this is merely the beauty of decay, things perfect in their falling apart.
So we push up the high trails, our legs lifting us – against gravity, against pain, against all thought of giving up. Lifting us to the place where nothing cares, nothing matters, the place where there is only granite. But the truth is not in the granite. It is in the legs, it’s in the will. It is the mere decision – to climb.