Here’s my latest prose poem… The Descent

You sit on the chairlift, rising slowly. The hum of the cables. The only sound against the silence of the mountain below. The snow covered trees stand still. Ancient sentinels watching you as you ascend. The branches sag under the weight of the winter. Heavy with time. There’s no staying on. The lift only goes one way. It does not wait.

The higher you climb, the smaller the world below becomes. Until all that’s left is the mountain, the sky and the inevitability of the descent. At the summit, the air is thinner, sharper. The slope stretches out before you. Endless. Untouched. And for a brief moment you hesitate. But hesitation won’t stop the fall. Only delay it.

There’s nothing left to do but push forward. To lean into gravity. And to surrender to what comes next. At first you fight for control. Carving carefully, measuring every turn, believing you can dictate the path.

But the mountain doesn’t care

The snow shifts beneath you.

You realize control is an illusion. No matter how carefully you choose your line, you are always falling. Sometimes with control, but more often not.

And yet there is a beauty in the rush. The cold air stings your face. Your heartbeat pounds

And for a moment, just for a moment, you are flying. Weightless. Boundless. Free. This terrifying is exhilarating. It is everything. And then before you know it, you reach the bottom. Breathless. Changed. Looking back at the winding trail behind you, wondering was I ever really steering?

Or was I just along for the ride?

Daily Design: 319/366