I tread along a narrow path upon the rim of alpine bowl,
Above snowfields, among cold monoliths a howling wind does growl.
Glacial ice draped upon the shoulders of this giant, as ancient white cowl.
Uncharted wilderness, where steps no foot has been.
Wearily, winded, reach the peak or suffer chagrin.
There is a spirit deep within, all men of certain kin, desiring to summit, wanting to win.
Atop the gale swept precipice,
Perched on parapet adorned by ice,
On the citadel of wilderness efforts now suffice,
for to be here, I paid the price.
