Back from the bottom,
so I'm staying at the top.
Come rain, come shine,
tip of the moutain is mine.
Looking down,
facing the ground,
better than looking up,
mind negatively corrupt.

There are many below,
few reach the top with snow.
On the bottom there are miseries,
sadness stacked in series.
Regardless of conditions,
the top holds my intuitions.

The top is attitude,
day in and day out choice of mood.
Not wanting to pack a meal,
to make a trip from a bottom spill.
Wasting time traveling from,
when you should never have succumb.

Would you like to swing on a star,
carry your heart and soul from afar,
be better off than you are,
or would you rather be a tree,
unable to move free,
stuck down,
 your roots planted in
the ground?

G