A mountain, just a mountain,
standing righteous and tall.
It peered upon the broken souls.
It towered above them all.

But my friends, they couldn’t see
the mass of honey colored limbs,
for it was my hike and mine alone
to travel thick or thin.

I began my journey, spring in step,
neither alone nor ever lonely.
For I had pride upon my side,
adventure in my eye.
The mountain had consumed me.

Then the changing seasons became too familiar to my blues.
The ever winding colors brought me wandering.
The glory brought me woos.

My innocence had left me,
as death parted my route.
All was left to racing hearts,
and not a thought to whom.

My stride began to quicken and my sight began to blur.
I raced no one but my lonesome self.
Blind to all upon my path.
too careless, too rushed…

All to find one rainy day I’d surely lost my way

I soon grew old and slowed my pace,
a strolling walk became my comfort.
The slope of the rocky ground made its final decline;
I yearned for peace and slumber.

My legs gave in below me,
my weary eyes did shut.
I took my last inhale of breath,
and smiled as I wept.

No longer did I race.
No longer did I run.
For I had been the lonely man,
who surely must have won

The world prepared for reap,
as the mountain said good bye.
I pictured the line behind me,
hope in the young eyes.
If only they knew their greatest adventure
was a lie.