The Summit Stayed Silent
I can see my old apartment
from a thousand miles above,
all the nights I called it failure,
all the things I couldn’t love.
There’s the street where I went nowhere,
there’s the door that wouldn’t move,
there’s the man I used to argue with
who had nothing left to prove.
Every “no” became a landmark.
Every scar became a mile.
Funny how the longest winter
looks so small from up this high.
Nobody tells you when you’re climbing
that the summit makes no sound.
One day you just turn behind you
and can’t recognize the ground.
Look at the view
from here,
look how far the dark became.
Every road that nearly broke me
put another mile beneath my name.
Look at the view
from here,
I can finally see it clear:
I wasn’t wasting all those years
— I was building the view from here.
I remember counting dollars,
counting losses, counting days,
trying to turn desperation
into something that would pay.
People laughed before they listened,
then they listened when it grew.
Strange how everybody sees you
once the impossible comes true.
I thought winning would erase it,
make the old ache disappear.
But the bottom came up with me.
That’s why the sky means something here.
Look at the view
from here,
every wreck became a road.
Every weight I thought would kill me
taught these shoulders how to hold.
Look at the view
from here,
there’s the life I almost feared.
I didn’t outrun where I came from — I brought it all
the way up here.
I thought I’d meet another person
when I finally reached this place.
Turns out I’m the same damn bastard...
Just with sunlight on my face.
I still know the taste of nothing.
I still know the sound of doubt.
Maybe that’s the fucking difference: I know there’s always a way out.
Look at the view
from here,
let me burn it in my eyes.
I have spent enough time crawling
not to recognize the sky.
Look at the view
from here,
every low is still down there.
I used to beg the world for somewhere — Now I’m standing
fucking HERE. And God...
what a view from here.