The man who lives in the mountains is free.
He must be, if he is to go beyond the reaches of the forest, and find his path to the summit.
The man who lives in the mountains is determined.
He pushes through with gritted teeth and an icy beard, because he knows what richness will reward him at the top.
The man who lives in the mountains is patient.
He has to retrace his steps a thousand times over, taking two forward and one back.
The man who lives in the mountains is honest.
He will tell himself if it is too much, turn around, and leave the tempting treasure for another day.
The man who lives in the mountains can see beauty.
Not just in the summit view, but in every aching step that lead him there.
The man who lives in the mountains will never leave them.
For he has felt the freedom of the wind, battled storms and frozen bones, and intimately trod his path in the snow, all for that triumphant moment when the sunrise hits the summit.
He has left a part of his heart in the care of their elevated majesty, a part which can never be taken back.
And the space it leaves will be filled with a feeling of content. The mountains now live in the man.
Welcome Home
To be at peace in the wild
See the beauty in aching steps
Feel the day extend forever
We can’t know what is to come next
The thrill of the chase will excite you
Clouds sprinting away from the sun
Revealing the valley beneath them
Far below shining peaks they now shun
This is the path that enthrals us
Adventure and risk, they are rife
And sometimes our luck disappoints us
Sometimes Mother Earth takes a life
And all you can do is keep breathing
Continue as well as you can
Remember those souls who walked with you
Remember their spirits, my friend
For someday, up away on that ridge top
Or anywhere else you may roam
The ice and the snow will be calling
The mountains will welcome you home.
Boths Poems in memory of Ari Kingan
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