They seem smaller goals now
Kilimanjaro and Batian
like the gods we made in our image
a dozen years away from the college dreamers
who would flag peaks and keeps paths open
virile hopes preaching ambition, reaping the wind of a thousand hills

but we don’t talk anymore
our glittering successes just plastic mounts for others to see
corporate suits & a convenience of memory loss
the good life we made the gods write on our empty hands
and over here our Hansel and Gretel garden of everything and blah blah

But on the horizon, mountains . Mountains that we will never reach,
for the one molehill you couldn’t cross.

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