Mountaintop

Ten years ago
I stood upon
a mountaintop;
the air was fresh
and crisp,
and I could see clearly
for miles
in every direction.

It was perfect.

As things go,
I eventually
left my perch
for the woods
and the wilds
of the valley,
searching
for something
many called
“real life.”

After a decade
of wandering
through murky forests,
I find myself
on that same
mountaintop,
pondering
what I have learned
since I left.

Though the view
is not as intoxicating
as it was when first seen
through youthful eyes,
it is now more peaceful,
as its endless visibility
stands in stark contrast
to the perpetual
and impenetrable
darkness
through which I walked
on the canopy-laden
valley floor.

Were I to leave
the mountaintop
a second time,
I might never
find my way back;
and even if I did,
it would be through tears
that I looked out
from its summit,
distraught that I had
twice traded
years of clarity
for obscurity,
and thousands of deep,
refreshing breaths
for the intolerable stench
of stagnant earth.

No,
this time I will stay
on the mountaintop,
leaving only
to fell sturdy trees,
for it is here
that I will build
my home.