Mountain that Pierces the Heavens

"The mountains are calling and I must go" - John Muir

The boreal atmosphere was not being especially lenient towards me. It felt as though I was pulled into the depth of a glacial lake, trapped by hyperborean tendrils that refused to release my body from piteous captivity. The temperature alone was enough to cast regret upon my mind, inflicting a shadow of a wound, just barely slipping into the cracks of my volatile perception, breathing uncertainty and doubt upon the choices that I made in the time that had very recently evaporated into nothingness, even in this extremely hibernal weather. It felt strange after a short moment, the comparison of the passing of time with the mere juxtaposition of aquatic molecules from the surface of an object, or in this scenario, the outer plane of my human body and skin, in no way built or born to withstand this form of icy torture, or any form of torture for that matter, but it can only be blamed upon me. The  shambles of my mind reiterated itself, ridding the caliginous, stymie thoughts that were carefully prodding at the doubtful extracts of my mind, hoping to force upon me a resolution that would find myself in front of a blazing hearth, within a cozy cottage, drifting off to an eventual sleep on a large, maroon couch. It would not come to that, I would only return to my home after I had reached the palmary goal of my venturesome expedition, which was reaching the frost-bound peak that, from a distance, seemed to scrape the sky itself. As the skeletal trees around me, malnourished of leaves parted ways, revealing a great pathway that spiraled like an ancient python up the mountainside, the image of the mount rose gracefully. It was indeed true, the highest point, which was shaped like a serrated, mordant dagger split the clouds above neatly and carefully. A laceration seemed to occur around the area where the summit reached the heavens, making it seem as if the clouds were forming a vortex around the very top of that dagger, gyrating around like miniature hurricanes, the clouds colliding and entwining themselves impetuously. I found myself frozen, ironically not because of the cold, in a few seconds, I found myself trekking up that path, imagining the top of that mount, where perhaps if I reached out my arms far enough, I could feel the celestial heavens above as well.

Christopher Burns