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

climbing the glass

i am like the spider

climbing the glass window

keep slipping

to the bottom

of unemployment

and poverty

making no progress

in prosperity

whatsoever;

except a poetic rhythm!

but i like the tiny creature

keep struggling

in which there is music

transforming into an energy

maintaining a movement

within my soul

carrying a dream

of becoming a new being

cherishing the dance

of the man from Nazareth

wearing the crown

of thorns

and crucified with nothing

but his loin cloth

and to be buried

by the little known Nicodemus

a dance impossible

and seldom found in a Bishop

wearing a miter, a pectoral cross

an amethyst stone, and slimy vestments

a contemporary high priest

robed in Pilate’s robe

henry victor      17.05.2007