sometimes i consider my pace i m reminded of a train gathering speed for the climb to the pass in whose shadow it already lies a small metal dragon approaching the ever present ascending rise to the seventh mountain reeling and snaking and leaping it seems that it wants to come loose from it s 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 can you wonder 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 it s no matter no distance it s the ride a valley a forest a desert a stream and an oversized bridge for the trickle beneath you remember the torrent it turned to last spring from the snow melting fast and the river it became in the summer perhaps it is ruin from a fire that has scorched it so badly that nothing will grow without rain to wash away the blackened soil now useless until called upon again in a future as distant and far away as the next range of mountains then take it as far as you see and beyond with eyes you don t use enough to gather up strength as thoroughfare gap what awaits is whatever you see when you get there of even before it s no matter no distance it s the ride