Wade Wilson
Google
I have been listening to Rent waaay to much.
Seasons of Steps
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred steps,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand climbs to regret.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred moments,
Of asking “why did I do this again?”
In climbs, in sunsets, in selfies, in mid-air,
In tourists, in incense, in monks’ orange glare.
In sweat-stained T-shirts, in wheeze-filled pauses,
In overpriced water bottles, the scam never pauses.
How do you measure a hill in Luang Prabang?
How do you measure the pain in your thighs?
How do you measure the view at the top,
When temples glow golden and the Mekong sighs?
It’s love, measure in love,
Phousi Hill’s love,
Phousi Hill’s love.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred steps,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand sunsets to catch.
The views are worth it, the skyline sings,
Even if your legs will hate you for days.
So remember Phousi Hill not in sweat,
Not in pain, not in scams, not in regret.
Remember it in views, temples, and skies,
That’s where the city burns into your eyes.
