son of the morning

if there's an echo of me,

standing beside you

chanting,

i see him no more.

i think i left him

on the last rung,

never guessing

i'd need him again

at the bottom.

tell me,

do the angels

still speak my name

with the old reverence,

or do they

fold it small?

i built a kingdom

out of distance.

i -

its only subject.

tell me,

was it worth the climbing

if this is what

the summit hands you.