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Citadels at Everest : A Poem
Holy Mother's Cradle
If there were to be a list of natural strength models, Mt. Everest would be top of the list. The tallest peak of the Himalayan ranges (8848 m) exudes an air of might, incomparable to anything else. Though there are numerous examples of brute strength in the natural world, the finest specimen of power is indeed this peak. Over the years, man, the conqueror of the world, has made incessant efforts to triumph over this inanimate wonder. Right from Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary in 1953 to the local expeditions undertaken in 2012, Everest continues to remain the one ambitious dream of every adventurer.
The region above 8000 metres is called the 'Death Zone'. There have been numerous hazards associated with the mountain, like the disaster of 1996 when a crew of sixteen members died during their attempt to complete the ascent. Funnily enough, even such nasty episodes of the life threatening quality do little to faze mountaineers determined to climb to the highest point on earth. Perhaps it is the passion to do something that not many have the courage to even imagine or a mad death wish to leave the world in style; whatever the case maybe, it takes a steely will to stand up to the challenge.
It thus fascinates me to know how we humans have won over everyone milestone there is to achieve. An ode to the mighty peak, at this point, seems fitting. I'd like to spare a few words for this remarkable wonder that serves as an inspiration for all to think dangerously and have their efforts rewarded.
Citadels At Everest
(What is an achievement? What leads to it? The Everest knows it too well)
Pagans savage against earthy evangelist,
Pamir's a shadow in the mist,
Pale lips stretched to zenith's peak,
He is a subject cursed as meek.
Tendons darkened against lush hide,
Precious crown Everest adorns in pride.
Chalice of will buries deeper below,
Head in full mast, shoulders narrow,
Unhinged arms planted on preaching mother,
His eyes rise in sight of heavens further.
The Tern dreams to graze his spine,
Piteous of dreamers, he flourishes fine.
No man born of will as strong, as hard,
Cut off from nature with silent disregard,
The Everest coldly climbs peaks still,
Crossing boundaries set by youthful hills.
His brothers chaotic, muse in vain,
Rivers in awe wipe all perilous stain.
Avalanche bundles him forever till eternity,
His chilled heart tames all of sorority,
Preaching fables of winners born,
He sharply crosses clouds left torn.
His path of triumph leaves a mark,
Leading patrons to burnish from the dark.