[peaking]

hands against the surfaces of stone:

the dryness seems fit for the polish of the grip,

as i carry my weight up over the cliff and peer down at the height of my climb.

at some point this must align

with an idea God had in His mind.

this must be what its like to come into ones own;

having full faith that the drift, the down, angled calves, the slide of mud, the catch of my step as i bare down down down ...

will not be nearly as trecherous as the lift, the push on angled calves, the slide of mud, the catch of step as i push my weight up over the cliff and peer out at the site of my dreams.

reaching into the depth of fear in my knees, the water up to my hips, i drift with the clutch of a stick;

the dryness in my feet seems fit for the polish of the grip of stone, i chance across a fast-moving water, against the current of time and i think to myself:

at some point this must align with an idea God had in His mind.~