I am running up that hill,
(no deal
with God looms
because of the agnosticism),
with pure aplomb
and gusto!
I will scale some heights
and I will plant my flag,
for these are the mounds
that I deem
conquered.
They alight by my side,
each a stone stepped,
a pathway
(no gardens here)
through toil and soil,
my own band equalised.
Are they metaphorical
or tangible?
Ala carte I offer,
you pick and you choose,
‘menu de jour’
as they say in our stars.
On sunlight,
on stardust,
pass over that tor.