The Alchemists Aim for Altitude

by kholinar

The laughter starts
just as they make
the hard ascent,
they wryly trample
past the groves,
their mirth wells up at
stunted pines on rocks,
they gasp and cough
as air grows cold.

The summit shines
for lasting want
of devastation.
A note is taken,
soon to be addressed.
A pike is standing
up with headway,
spiked to smite
all past regrets.

Their aspirations rage and lurk
beneath the tree line,
they carve out root bark
for the heights.
The stench of solvent
canters all around them,
their poisoned sweat
molests the clime.

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