If we knew before we started then we probably wouldn’t have started. But we found out after and so we had to continue. We walked for so long, the sticks scraping at our worn heels. In silence of course because moments like that always deserve silence. Before we started we packed up our lives into tiny Mason jars and wrapped them around us like Christmas lights in July hoping to get a better glimpse of the stars that we could only see from the top of the mountain. We were in search of the new world and our lips trembled with excitement at the thought of realization. But we started late and so the sun went down as we fumbled against branches that crumbled under our hands and left dirt under our fingernails. I tried so hard to keep pace with you, to climb higher and faster but you rose too quickly and my muscles twitched as they continued unwillingly, screaming at me to stop. We kept climbing but it was so dark, I lost you three times but you were always standing behind me, wordlessly watching. We climbed so high that we passed god, he lives three houses down from that one guy who did that one amazing thing whose name no one remembers and we rang the door to see if he was home but he was out on business so we kept climbing. The air got thinner. Our eyes faded in and out of the slits of light that fell down upon us, I had wanted to sleep for hours but something told me that it was necessary to keep going, to see where we would end and begin and find the answer to the question that we had long forgotten. We passed birds who disintegrated into air and who watched us with curious eyes, these two strangers who had skin like ground and hair that tangled its self into ropes and vines. We must have looked crazier than we felt but we continued. I heard you reach the top before I saw you; you made that sound that you used to make when you were happy, like waves crashing against marble shores. I pulled myself up to you but you had already sat down, I had gone to slow and could no longer share in everything you had seen. Everything you drank up so greedily with your eyes was gone and all I had left were the few stars too small to find places for themselves in your acceptance. But I held them anyway, for so long, holding them like children and letting them play in the smashed bits of glass that the my jars melted into. All gone. They weaved light and color around me, but you wanted that too. You wanted everything but I had hands that let them fall through and I couldn’t catch them for you. I tried so hard but I couldn’t catch them for you. I let them fall and I fell with them. I fell into the mountain, and now you have to climb down alone.