I know no other way to reach the heavens

This path, slow trod, unknown
of terminus, winds through fine
worn desert dust and far icy
crowns of Andes...

Terraced slopes for stepping
up-and-down-and-sideways:
I fall, get up, keep going,
climbing, breathing...

Worn thin by many passing
feet of others going seeking,
bearing in a pilgrim heart the
brilliant ache of living...

(joy and sorrow seep from same
deep wells plumbed firmly
in the psyche) and I will
always go on walking.

P.S. Desert prettiness at TheShapeOfThingsToCome - go look!