I climb and climb, to reach the top.
For reasons which, cause a stop.
Why do I head on up high?
For a grand old look as I die?

The last of my kind, the king of the hill.
With nothing but time, to try and fill.
I reach the peak with time to spare.
I stop to ponder, do I care?

The view before me, I see with awe.
Such beauty I never gazed before.
A sudden urge I begin to feel.
A twist of head I begin to keel.

A wonderful flight to the beauty below.
My future I suddenly begin to know.
An ever increasing grey beneath.
The secret of life I bequeath.

The meaning of life is....