Sometimes I consider my pace and
I'm reminded of a train gathering speed
from the fire into the pass,
in whose shadow our early lives,
a small metal dragon approaching
the ever present, ascending rise
to the seventh mountain.

Reeling and snaking and heaving
it seems like it wants to come loose
from its path cast in iron.

But, you can't slow down now as the
earth has presented a new crest to reach
without barely a rest from the last one ...

And you wonder just what lies beyond
though you've been there before
and forget about the effort and the strain.

Always ascending each yard as a mile to
the never ending pull of the steepening grade
that's before you.

A valley, a forest, a desert, a stream
with an oversized bridge for the
trickle there beneath. You remember
the torrent it turned to last spring from
the snows melting fast
and the river it became
in the summer.

Perhaps it is ruined from a fire that has
scorched it so badly that nothing will
grow without rain
to wash away the blackened soil
now useless, til called upon again
in a future as distant
and faraway as the next
range of mountains.

So take it as far as you see and beyond
with eyes you don't use enough.

Gather up strength,
as Thoroughfare Gap
awaits whatever you see
when you get there or even before.

It's no matter, no distance, it's the ride.