Climbing a Mountain

I climbed the mountain high. Sometimes scratching and clawing at the sides.
Sometimes the highs were too high, sometimes the lows were too low, but still I kept on, because I had to know. If only I could reach the top I felt I could finally have what I thought was lost. This mountain is so massive, and I have been on it for so long, what if what I was seeking isn’t even on the top. I’ve just gone wrong.
I reached out in prayer for guidance, a clearer path to be seen. And as if by magic I saw a tunnel to go in. I started down the path and felt like it was right. Then I saw light, coming in to keep me from feeling the fright. And more than that as branches open along the way, bringing others to show me support as I travel through the mountain and on to the place where I could stay. Suddenly it was dark again and I reached out in prayer. Please dear Lord help me find my way. I can’t find my path and in this spot I can’t stay. And then it did appear, a light at the end making the direction to travel clear. As I traveled along, it felt so very cold, but I had no where else to go. I got to the end and stepped out into the light. I was high on top of the mountain, looking down on beauty I could only dream. I turned to share my joy and point out all I could see, and there I stood, just me. It was never about the destination. The best I felt was in the center of darkness, where the light could be seen, and having someone to walk along with me.

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