Risk

I tire of lines and marking time,
the ticking clocks and status quo
that drive the cogs of daily life.
A strict account of every dime,
with options sliced beneath the knife
of budgetary needs, as though
pursuit of change was some great crime.

To venture far beyond the doors
and mundane walls that hide away
the waiting world from all who seek
to taste the brine of distant shores
or pit themselves against a peak
in hopes that flesh and bone obey
the mind’s commands as spirit soars.

I long to cleanse this tainted skin
and slough the scales of will denied,
to feel the wind blow salted spray
across my face and breathe it in,
to view a summit’s grand display
as dawn ignites the mountainside
and calmly watch the morn begin.

Perhaps one day I’ll drop it all
and leave the pieces where they lie
to chase a place of unknown air
in answer to that silent call
to search for something fine and rare
outside the bounds of knowing why
or counted cost and risk the fall.