As were a pebble or a ball of ice
suspended on the precipice
the drop below would not suffice
to sway into or closer less
the wind would have Its way
As diving for its prey the raptor
so did our friend go forth
and though the wind, a careless captor,
thought nothing of his poor life's worth
fate and luck held sway
So early on the path was figured
and soon the slope did fall
and though it seemed at times configured
to hold him in its palm
the mountain had its say
Down yonder go thee! To the floor!
Down go thee all the way!
I shall hold back your fall no more
lest thou be content to stay
at rest upon my bosom.
So growing with the mountain's coat
of snow and leafy spoils
oft by hard rock was it smote
and slipped past as slicked by oils
of some savagery of nature
With each hard fall and sudden slam
his size did bulge and swelling
from pebble to a well fed ham
with gravity compelling
ever faster towards the bottom
Would think, perhaps, there would be times
when the path would clear for miles
yet though it seemed straight as these rhymes
did he crookedly down defiles
The trickster gods' own slalom
This is where I am now
This is where the story pauses
Halfway down the mountain, How?
With forced and sundry clauses.
My life begins to be mine.