warming the bitter soul

[fledgist]

the day progresses and we feel the cold
not so much in the flesh as in the bone
each of us takes the hillside on our own
the sun does not present us with its gold
instead we watch as all the players fold
each heart turns into an inert hard stone
the weight inside provokes a fervent groan
we have been measured bought and sold
now when we climb the mountain it is day
but no light comes to guide our weary feet
after the rain the path seems very slick
but we've been told this is the only way
the view from the high peak is a real treat
the vision comes only to those who are quick