The Ever Rest Syndrome

We live at the bottom of the mountain
Demons in our living rooms
Dining with us
They push our carts at the grocery store

They enter the soul
And blindfold our eyes
So we may watch television
The ultimate brain wash
Cleaning out all those nasty thoughts
With the broom of dissatisfaction

Never enough, 
Of anything
Including self worth
A perverted truth be told
That bleeds
From seductive tongues

So we must prove ourselves
And look to the mountain
For worth and achievement
It mustn’t be the mountain in our village.
No
We must climb the highest peak
To be worthy

Embarking on our quest
We make the journey alone
Oxygen bottles and Sherpas
Lie frozen dead on the trail
And they build our camp
So we can sleep on the ground
And impress ourselves 
With our own bravery

Finally
We reach the pinnacle
After many days of hardship
Alone, we have mastered our own destiny
We view all we have conquered
And feel the rush
Of accomplishment

Surveying our world
The wind singing its notes of approval
We meet eyes with the Sherpas
Their ruddy skin eating the wind for breakfast
They smile and raise their hands in celebration
And fill us in this singular moment

With so much more speed
We find ourselves back home
At the bottom of the mountain
In our living rooms
Changed little
Save for the mountain top selfie
Hanging on the wall

Alone at the top.

Accomplishment is rarely achieved without a support system.
(2) multiple exposure photographs stitched for a wider view

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