New World

My mountain hides under a pile of trees.

It's my own to climb if I have any hope

Of seeing past someone else's peak.

"Breathe deep," I tell my betraying lungs.

"Stride sure," I tell my aching legs.

The whole range sings with voices hopeful,

But no one has found it yet;

Their peak.

Not one of us.

We work so hard, but we all know

That all that's waiting on the other side

Is another pile of trees.

For that moment though, we won't have time to look down.

We'll break the top and all there will be

Is an endless sky onto diamond seas;

A new world waiting on the farthest shore.