Sonnet 31 Poem by doug bentley

the oyster shell on ocean bottom lay,
hid from the nets of a thousand divers;
in obscure light hiding, in obscure bay,
the obscure pearl no entrance offers.

escape from prison was a journey in fire;
white sun blanched white burning land;
there had been no time to stock water;
twice dead men fell dead in desert sand.

they had planned their ascent in spring
and mapped path with meticulous care,
anticipating every possible thing -
the rumble of avalanche split the air.

every summit is obscured by cloud;
all paths entered by way of shroud.