The expectations
of existence
are endless
Like a great mountain
-Whitney-
-Kilimanjaro-
-Everest-
Whose peak is shrouded
in a hooded cloak
of ethereal clouds
But you know
it's there
somewhere
so you climb
always expecting
to break through the mist
and see at last
the snow capped summit
and that promise
keeps you going
through the ever
changing landscape
and the switchbacks
of the scrub trails
but aside from
some pockets of clarity
the haze never clears
the apex never appears
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