Just Another Mountain

A journey through fields, mountains, river, desert, and the gate.

Carry the weight of this body…
I’m walking this road,
will find a grave for it
at the end
of the journey I took.

Through dark, hazy fields,
I try to run,
but only crawl.
All my life I was taught
to follow what the hands could hold.

Then I reach the mountains…
treks, peaks, greenery, lush.
I measure depth with my feet.

The sun shivers
at dawn, at dusk,
never calm.
I learn the wisdom…
don’t lose to the steep,
don’t look back
and run toward the next one.

Now the river…
cold water numbing my feet,
I don’t stop.

Through the desert,
sand swallowing every step,
the sun a white fist.

I bear my sacred weight of body and soul,
no longer walking,
just dragging.

At last,
the graveyard gate,
rusty, half‑open,
waiting.
I’m dead,
walking the road
to bury what’s left of me.

But the gate isn’t the end,
it’s just another mountain.