I’m climbing a mountain,
my whole life a spur to the top.
At the moment it feels slow going
I’m afraid to slowdown and stop.
Looking back I see many detours,
mistaken when faith grew weak.
When the way seemed easier,
or so I thought, until the
trail led me back to seek,
the true path to the crown,
to the summit, where every
breath is now thin and frail.
Reaching the pinnacle of life’s
desire, to achieve flight, not to
plummet and thereby fail.
Penpusher by Pen
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