Hypothermia

You are as cold as ice.
You're sure your blood is frozen.
You came prepared, but it's not enough
you realize as your shivering increases.
Your lips are blue, as are your fingertips.
You're losing coordination as forward you push.
You've worked so hard.
You've planned for much.
But this mountain has defeated many men,
It will defeat you too.
You know you can't get down,
so you go up, up, up.
If this is to be your grave,
it will be at the top.
You're stumbling now, and slurring words,
but you're at the summit you see.
As the air becomes thin you feel so hot,
shedding your jacket and protective gear.
Your skin quickly turns blue, a smurf you think,
but you are so warm inside, can only feel heat.
You can no longer walk, you're on your knees,
you crawl to a small opening under a snow ledge.
You look out at the white landscape
and feel the pride that you succeeded.
You're not the first to die here, you won't be the last,
but you made it to the top of Mount Everest.

There is nearly 200 bodies on the routes up Mount Everest that have never been recovered. This poem is in respect to them, may they RIP and may their loved ones find peace that they died doing something they were so passionate about!