At last I've made it <br />to the roof of <br />our crazy world. <br />No higher goal <br />can be attained, <br />there is no mountain <br />that could offer <br />a nobler summit. <br /> <br />And swaying now, <br />a bit, how odd <br />that lack of air <br />can make me slow <br />and stagger <br />in the snow <br />and unforgiving <br />cruelty of Everest. <br /> <br />We were thirteen, <br />experienced, <br />mountaineers: <br />Hamburger Yank, <br />Know-all Kraut, <br />Vin Rouge Frog, <br />Olive Mafioso, <br />Feta Greek, <br />Herring Swede, <br />Vegemite Aussie, <br />Borscht The Russki, <br />Taco Mexicano, <br />Blubber Inuit, <br />Ancient Hunzakut, <br />Kibbutz Stein, <br />and <br />Darky Washington. <br /> <br />Just three of us, <br />and by sheer luck, <br />came down again <br />that day in May. <br />(None meant to stay) . <br />And come to think <br />about the top <br />and why we climbed <br />and did not stop, <br />all puzzled still, <br />we conquered <br />not a mountain <br />but a fear <br />within ourselves. <br /> <br />The Piper did collect. <br />And, in the end <br />it was, for some, <br />the final show.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-piper-on-everest/
