Walking away

Walking Away

Walking away from the mountain,

That haven of certainty

That you once had given me,

And now has been covered in

Malign mists and rainy doubts,

Gathering like a cold and dense

Cumulus cloud,

Creating a vicious volcano

And turning this long-standing haven

Into a misty mountaintop of madness.

No call from any creature

Could make my hair stand on end,

In as much as a single glance

Upon that loathesome mountain of doom,

Of self-fulfilling disaster,

My own private Ragnarok

I'm now trying to escape.

I stumble and fall.

Thorny bushes bruise and scratch

My arms

My legs

My hands

My face.

All marked with the tenacity

And the voracity

Of this unremitting urge

To turn around,

Climb that horrible hillside and

Return.