Trudging slowly on overgrown paths,
vines and creepers surrounding,
the smell of nature slowly pervading my senses
a heady fragrance like a sweet perfume,
of a lover on a valentine’s night.
The path gets steeper, rockier, slowly,
until a walk, a stroll turns into a climb,
the dense canopy gives way to overcast skies,
a sheer cliff face rises and glares down at me,
the pitter-patter of the rain transforming into a downpour.
The cliff face stands before me, slick with rain and mud,
rats and bats hiding in every possible crevasse,
lightning flashes in the most uninviting way,
the cliff looks down at me and says
“Will you go on?”
It holds no promise of beauty and ease at the other end
for this climb is just the first of many till I die,
I miss the garden where I started out,
precariously hanging on a ledge on this sheer rock face,
still climbing, more climbs ahead,
I see my scars and bruises,
I see the thunderstorm that won’t let up,
I see the endless struggle still left,
I let go.
Oh, the wondrous freedom of falling into blissful oblivion.


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