Ascension - 4.16,17,19.20

Sun blazes, beams down,
     nothing to hinder, to flicker
          its gaze.
Footstep crunches the glittering crust,
     crushes the gleaming crest,
Twelve points biting
     wind-sculpted white.

Lungs lunge,
     sparse oxygen seizing;
Heart thunders,
     lightning-laced and charged.
Ears catch the whistle -
     wind whipping rock rims,
     the cleft catching the call.

Pause.

     then
Climb.
What else
     can one do
In response to
     all this?