I climb Olympus, taking care to
watch my step for fear of Death,
I seek the pastures still to come
as freezing air does chill my breath.
I search for comfort, calm, or quiet,
wish those pastures might appear
For my knees are bent and broken,
and nightfall follows, all too near.
And as I stand here, strange and fearful,
beholding heaven at the peak,
I know that to complete my journey
still stranger pastures must I seek.