Jack holds a braver heart than I
That tops the mountains, draped in skies.
He has no need for hows or whys
Or waters which we store.
He does not plan or map a route,
At home on any hill’s redoubt.
He’s happy just to move about,
And all else but a bore.
Jack knows that where the path begins
Is less important than its ends,
And counts half-mountains as his wins;
His chest contains his core.
His Master, though, gets weary fast,
And trembles at the winter’s blast,
Thinks every mountain may be last,
Believing he is poor,
His heart is halved, without a mate,
And every climb a bit more late…
But Jack cares not the time and date,
Tempts fate at heaven’s door!
Eric M. Vogt