There is a point where what is being crossed no longer asks to be explained, but only to be sustained until breath is not yet possible. It is not the ascent that moves, but something that keeps pressing until every reference falls away, and right there, where there is no support left, something holds without appearing, as if the limit were not a boundary but a threshold that opens only when there is nothing left to control.
Thank you for sharing, dear @Mirage 💛
My pleasure 😊
Beautiful, inspiring and powerful ♥️
Thank you Aaliya! ❤️
Lovely! Thank you
Thank you!
I'm ... waiting for the rocks to break my fall? clutching, at air? oh. my.
Hehe! Thanks Roger!
I’m sending the St Bernard!
I was not ready for the rocks having their own warning..!
hehe! Thanks Asuka!
Love mountain poetry. I like how it feels like the the breaths you take as you near the summit and wonder if you can before you do.
Thank you so much Sarah! I think i’m falling “up” into it too! ♥️
Mark, Im a climber out of hell and you just gave me hope in a fair mountain heaven ark of gilded gold and fuck the world.
Thank you so much Robert. Glad you liked it!
Good one!!
Thank you, GWP! 💛
There is a point where what is being crossed no longer asks to be explained, but only to be sustained until breath is not yet possible. It is not the ascent that moves, but something that keeps pressing until every reference falls away, and right there, where there is no support left, something holds without appearing, as if the limit were not a boundary but a threshold that opens only when there is nothing left to control.
Thank you Antonio. That’s a close reading. Whilst the piece starts off with a climb, it’s not about climbing, as you have caught.