A good traveller leaves no tracks
But stays on the chosen path
Until he reaches the final destination.
You climbed and you climbed,
Walked more miles in a day than any living being could, or should,
Despite the avalanches that knocked you out,
The frostbite that made you lose your toes,
Neither the broken nose and bones,
Nor the temporary loss of sight,
From the sheer height of where you stood,
Could hold you back.
Every step, every strained breath,
Getting you a little closer to the summit
Of which you dream night after night,
Towards which you spend your waking life,
When you finally crossed the Hilary Step,
And ascended onto the highest point on Earth,
What did you see, Michael?
Was it heaven, or something prettier?
Do words exist that describe the feeling?
Did you know you’d live to tell the tale?
Know more about Michael here: http://michaelgroom.com/
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