Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase,
And marvel men should quit their easy chair,
The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace.
Oh, there is sweetness in the mountain air
And life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share.

  • Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Lord Byron

Ink

Taking two steps forward and one step back
On this veritably vertical route
Sisyphus on her shoulder inked in black
For those who like to call themselves astute
Sagely concluding such effort is moot
Little do they know it is raining warm
A mountain beneath the straps of her boot
Typically it’s not a path one opts for
But there’s merit inherent to braving the storm

A phoenix rising only she can see
Ink crafted over scars paying homage
Wrestling with “whatever will be, will be”
She chooses destiny over bondage
There is sweetness to be found in knowledge
They point at her and scream belladonna
She takes all their complacency hostage
Horrid adventure, terrible drama
Mosquitoes and quicksand en-route to nirvana

… To be continued?

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*images not my own
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