Fleeing the short-haired mad executives,
The sad and useless faces round my home.
Up on the mountains of my fear I climb;
Above, the breakneck scorching rock, the caves.
No col, no v^ater; with excuse concocted.
Soon on a lower alp I fall and pant,
Cooling my face there in the faults that flaunt
The life which they have stolen and perfected.
Climbing with you was easy as a vow:
We reached the top not hungry in the least,
But it was eyes we looked at, not the view.
Saw nothing but ourselves, left-handed, lost;
Returned to shore, the rich interior still
Unknown. Love gave the power, but took the will.