OK, here's my contribution, for anyone who, like Piro or Kimiko, has ever felt love to be an uphill battle:

Our Lady of the Snows

She stands, and from her somber, silent peak
A funerary wind shies down the shrouded slopes,
Ether dried, and shocked by the astral cold
Of her dreaming summit, whose lonely flags
Slap with revenant hands the rarefied air,
Marking men's brief visits there.

Who now shall climb the lost, forsaken ways?
Barred and broken are the paths of old.
The swirling mists that wrap her riven skirts
Are clammy shrouds for the bones of the fallen.
Heart's blood stains the daggered, stony wards;
They drink the lives of those who, yearning for
An open trail, trespass upon the holy ground.

Bleak and certain, the burden of the wind:
Hear! Keep close in thy heart this tragic truth,
That never will the mountain call to thee;
It's silent presence calls of itself,
And draws response in each man's burning need.

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