The sound of my heart echoes over the hills one thick heartbeat at a time. Sweat stains my soul as my breath catches the breadth of heights. So here I stand on the ridge of another crest with only the remnants of the valley to give me hope.
I pause to let the beat of my pulse catch the winds of time. It’s here, closer to heaven, I feel the weight of earth. All I have are thoughts and a clear view of where I came from, where I am, and all the places I can go .
The valley is dark and cold. Everything is wet with decay, but it’s here where life lifts up mounds to mountains, a hard place to live. The sun plays hide and seek with branches of faith. Surrounded by shadows masquerading as shade I shiver at how cold I can be.
These are the depths of despair that keep me moving towards a plateau. A barren mountain top where the sun beats down so hard the valley seems a respite. A windswept mountain top where all I hear are my thoughts reverberating off my soul lifting my spirits past where I feel.
The sun becomes my mirror. It reflects my desire for peace and love to unite my hopes and fears into a faith that transcends the path I must travel. I’m blinded by the light at times, but always aware of the darkness within a stare, a balance of nature.
And because I move, I enjoy the reflective moments. Because I rest, the labor is refreshing. And because I love, pain cleanses my spirit to new heights. My journey is all that’s mine. My paths are trodden with my steps, heavy and light. My steps are purposefully taken towards a more peaceful me.
I scream at the thunder, cry raindrops, and think bolts of lightening. I am my own storm howling off the mountains atop ages of decay, but my feet are always planted firmly on the ground. It’s here my struggles are rooted.