insomnia consumes the climbers,
higher and higher, feeling lower and lower,
buttercups and stick like grass brush across them.

slipping they cling to the earth,
their goal too close to fall,
breathe and start again.

they rise up stepping onto flat land,
looking to the blue sky,
they reach up to the clouds.

heaven calling their name,
they rest on their backs
watching shapeless clouds float.

feel close to god,
the blue opening only for them
soon they must return to earth,

but for now, they are the gods of
sky, covered by breeze,
blinded by sun.

only on top of that earth made mound
do they rule the world.