High upon the lofty hills,

where winds whistle and roll,

eagles soar and shadows creep,

and he’s the only soul.

He stands upon the very edge,

as high as one can go,

looking at the tiny world,

that thrives down below.

He doesn’t feel ‘Top of the world,’

for he is engulfed in pride,

standing in a castle of glass,

stunningly satisfied.

But he isn’t the only one,

for thousands have come and gone,

to this castle of lucid glass,

to feel the warmth of dawn.

However every dawn can lead,

to nights that are opaque,

everybody stands in a castle of glass,

make sure yours doesn’t break.

Now this man, enclosed in glass,

let him have his day,

for very soon the glass must crack,

and take his hubris away.