Looking Back

When I reach the peak,

And view the paths

And roads I’ve walked, run

Crawled along the way

If I shed a tear, or quiet grow,

Let it count as prayer, most sacred kind

For all the dreams that drop behind

For all the things we lose with time

For all the things we gain and keep,

For all the living done asleep.

For shadows stand on further peaks

Where once friends close had trekked with me –

The ones we try but cannot hold,

For, ever time does rip and pull.

And miss you all, I always will,

In moments when my feet are still,

So empty glass I raise to drink,

In empty dreams, dreamed half asleep.