Far from Home

I stand at the foot of the mountain.

My hand shields my gaze as I peer upwards,

And inwards.

The wind swirls about my naked knees as I start my ascent.

I listen to its howl and realize it is my own voice,

Desperate for a counterpoint, a harmony, anything.

The cry of my soul echoes

Through the skyscraper canyons

Only to fade into stillness

across the grayness

Of the hardened plains.

My hands cup my ears as I listen

for any sound to give me courage.

Only the road home calls to me.

I feel the comfort of it tugging me back the way I came

Pausing in my steps, I look back,

From where I stand my stare crosses a thousand miles,

Longing for that old familiar place

Just for a moment, then the spell is broken.

I turn my back on what I once knew,

and begin to climb again.

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