The Mountain Rose Before Me

The mountain rose before me,
And climbed into the clouds,
Drenched in humid vapors
And rain.

The path went forward
Round the base where I stood
Into a narrow valley
Between one endless height
And the next.

I walked a weary walk
Watching the world transform
With each step.

Then I reached a small plateau
With a set of rocks stacked,
Moss growing on them,
And I looked through the fog.

There was no path,
No one path,
But inifinite winding roads,
Disaparing into voids unknown.

The winds twisted the hot air,
Phantoms moved across the stars,
Visions of everywhere I might
Next step.

The ghosts called me by name,
Each one beckoning me
To choose their way.

"Climb the mountain,"
– One whispered,
"It holds the answers."

Dazzled by the sounds, the fog,
I stepped back too close
To the edge,
And immediately plummeted,
My breath lost as I crashed
Down the steep stone
And course dirt.

The darkness gulped
As it swallowed.

Rain poured like knives.
Winds tore at my skin.

Jolts of little lightning
Shocked and fizzled
On the bleeding wounds.
My lungs gasped
Feebly.

Had I hit the bottom?
Rough roots lay beneath me,
And damp lumps of leaves.

It was silient
For hours

When my mind and body
Could at last move,
I looked in the darkness,
And tried to sit up.

The air seemed to overtake me.

I saw the eyes of a creture
Approach siliently from the woods.
I couldn't move,
Or even speak,
Only faintly gasp.

I felt lifted as it looked at me.
And soon was lumbering behind
As it lead me
Through the woods.

In the creatures house I rested.
The being of wood
And glowing eyes
Talked little.

He fed me a clear white broth
That trickled through his home.

"The mountain?"
– He grumbled.

"Yes, I want to go there,
To the top."

"Wooh-tu-tu-tu,
Not easy, not easy.
Many, there have tried,
Many, there have failed."

"But what else can I do?
It is what I must be."

Tu-tu-tu,
Be patient,
Be patient,
Drink,
Grow,
You are just boy."

"I wont be much longer,
And then?
I'll miss my destiny."

Be patient,
Be patient,
Drink,
Grow,
You are just boy."

"I guess"
– I pondered.

I rested that night,
And he made me a poultice,
Wrapped my legs
And arms,
As I mostly slept
On a bed of moss.

In the dim light of morning,
I didn't see him around,
So I stepped out,
Still hurting,
From the rootcave-home,
And sat by the stream
That ran through.

When shallow wind blew,
And the dawn light
Shifted through the trees,
I saw the glint
Of a coin.

Curious, I found it,
A greenish bronze,
Blended with the mud.

"You may keep it,"
– My host's voice suddenly said.

He was behind me at the door,
Just coming in
With a basket
Of mushrooms.

"Thank you,"
– I said,
"What is it?"

"Oracalcum,
Ancient.
There here was once,
A great temple,
That made them.
If you are not selfish,
It will bring
Great joys."

"I will remember that,
And cherish it,"
– I told him.

"Good. Now, let us have food."

I can't stay long,"
– I admitted.

"You must heal, no?"

"I will."

"Don't rush.

"I wont"

"Good,
Come again in here,"

I left in the dark
Under the stars
And the silver leaves,
Not sure what was next,
Not sure where I was,
Not sure
Of anything,
But I couldn't stay.

I couldn't stay.

The dawn was only red,
As I reached the forest's edge,
And looked up at a path,
Up the mountain.