The man

The man saw with awe
The mountain high above him.
His lamp glowed brightly.

He set out running
With certain understanding
Of his direction.

Warm sun gave him strength
And his heart knew to conquer.
And the sun faded.

Head bowed to the task
Through hinting mist wet went he
And yet could not see.

The ground grew steeper
As knowing, he laboured on
In blind certainty.

More lamps glowed round him.
He sought not friends but to strive
In competition.

He was brave and strong.
His lamp was growing fainter
But he did not see.

Mist grew thick and dark
And he started to stumble.
Sure of his foothold.

And then he looked up
And saw sun where he was not
But where others were.

With lamps not needed
As his grew dim and fog
Said nothing of use.

He cried out in shame.
And the mountain stood tall still
Above him in awe

Of  his bloodied feet.
And he knew that the mountain
Was still high and strong.

And he cried the pain
Of those others holding lamps
For he saw their fate.

But he knew also
That to learn is to climb high
But the view is poor.

He faded away
And died knowing that the light
Of others grew bright.


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