Air grows thinner, the higher we are held.
Granite pedestal grows beneath our feet.
Loneliness creeps into my veins,
as peers become less abundant.
I can remember the first step
on that first day.
There were so many of us;
we could barly fit on the platform.
Meeting for the first time
as our parents lifted us on.
Five years old,
the first day of the ascension.
the platform grew higher;
growing from the base, pushing us upward.
We became different during this stage;
but still together.
Still parts of an unbroken whole.
Eight years on that platform,
Time held us together.
It's ironic that our happiest moment together
happened to be our last.
ended our integrity,
our true power in numbers was ever diminished.
People began to jump from the platform;
some struck the floor,
upon impact their heads opened,
and something drained out,
the promise and potential drained out,
Higher we climbed,
with most of us gone, there was so much room for the rest to shine.
We stood out, the platform rising ever higher,
seemingly growing quicker,
feeding on the remains of wasted
The height seemed to scare some of the remaining,
upon jumping, they met the same fate as the previous,
draining fermented youth,
so much more potent to the growth of the pedestal.
Today I looked around,
saw the remains of a once strong group.
I cast my eyes down to look at them,
seeing shadows of them,
their once great selves.
Sometimes I see a glimmer of someone they haven't been for a while,
a glittering insight,
or a confident look.
It brings them back to the platform with me,
loneliness leaves me,
then they are gone.
They indulge again.