clambering up the icy slope, out in the open,
we need to hope:
hope we reach the summit,
some day, any way.
wind gusts hard, threatens to blow us off,
but we battle on, towards thee top,
where does it end, we don’t know,
those who get there, to heaven go,
forever in the clouds, pages they turn,
those that fall off, some say that they burn,
is it really the end, or a point of no return.
It doesn’t matter for we will keep going;
and for the sky we yearn…