reflecting on my climb

i climb higher

and higher

until i reach the top

full of lush and green

at the end

nothing but the tip

the branch is dried

and i fear!

filled with anxiety

and more uncertainty:

will it break?

will i survive the fall?

my wits falter

though i know a step down

i must go

to avoid the breaking point

it’s my making

and it’s my greed

that moved me there

and i chose

not the cold

nor a longer winter

smaller

and smaller branch

a diminishing place

a deserted village

climbing against the trend

an irrevocable drift

of an urban world

i now progress

into a wilderness

walking in wilderness is good

but living there

that i dread

i calm my thoughts

and tell my soul

you could always come below

but if it breaks

before the move i make

an outcome

i hate to see

hence

i close my eyes

henry victor      20.03.2007