Maybe

climbing up to the mountaintop where you know the view will only be of polluted cityscapes and hazy skies that lack the baby-blue sheen that that world has forgotten, you think, maybe.

just a single word made into a world of possibilities, it is what is driving you to the mountain's epic top but ultimate letdown. along the way you see cracked rocks, running streams, and an eagle soaring: all of which remind you that the world is still full of some second rate nature that a photograph can no longer capture in perfection.

you continue the climb, thinking about the past, and like moses atop mount sinai, you hope that mayhap some revelation is awaiting up on high. you think, again, maybe. 

it is that word that holds you in thrall. maybe is an exception, almost like saying, "but", just with different defining qualities.

yet, the climb you climb, knowing that maybe is a possible outcome of what is essentially an exodus and an odyssey, is what you feel you must do. it is a driving force taking you further and further away from what could be your personal perfection.

your door to other worlds is ignored as you climb to the mountaintop that could hold death, despair, loneliness, all wrapped up in some hideous approximation of destiny.

yet maybe is all you think of, maybe.

maybe.