Crossing the Tundra

Beyond the snow-capped mountains, we trek

Through the darkness and swirling sleet, 

Shrouded by the myriad of northern lights, 

Colors shifting, shimmering and transforming, 

The Aurora Borealis dancing to the thrum, 

Of the earthen tundra tucked below. 

Our eyes drift, wandering to the valley below, 

Fingertips frozen and raw from the trek, 

Your corpse wrapped in fur, swaying to the thrum, 

Of our precarious journey, battling sleet, 

Your pale face and bloodless lips transforming, 

As we draw close to the shimmering lights. 

Honoring your last request, we search the lights, 

Blue orbs burning, liquid fire encapsulated below, 

The corridor between life and death transforming, 

Our stomachs empty and aching from the trek, 

Eyelashes crusted with snowflakes and melted sleet, 

We listen to the ancient rock speak, a lonely thrum. 

Our teeth chatter, ears throb, hearts thrum, 

Blood crystalizing in our veins, seeking the light, 

So distant and dangerous, blanketed by sleet, 

We consider diving into the valley below, 

Joining you my friend, at the end of this trek, 

The selfishness within us suddenly transforming. 

The gray cloud looming above begins transforming, 

A break in the storm, the sky releasing a mighty thrum, 

The gods have long abandoned us on this trek,

Choosing to watch from their kingdom gilded in light, 

Laughing at our peril, bleak as the receding sleet, 

Your body slips toward the chasm below. 

The great yawning mouth of ice shatters from below, 

Revealing a winter wonderland transforming, 

Into a shadowy graveyard webbed in sleet, 

Your tombstone emerging with a hollow thrum, 

Your name etched in stone, blazing with light, 

We have finally reached the culmination of our trek. 

Did we survive this trek? Or are we ghosts uprooted from below? 

Enter the dancing light before it begins transforming. 

Can you still hear the thrum? Or has it been snuffed by sleet?