More Mountains
There are always more mountains —
Their sun glanced peaks rise,
Looming from a far future horizon.
The cloud-hidden ranges of the past
Fade into memory —
Those struggles far behind.
Between all the ups and downs
There have been valleys of growth,
But also stagnant swamps and complacent plains.
There’s always more work to do —
So, I plant an unsteady foot,
Reach with a bruised, bloodied hand,
And continue up this mountain I climb.
After the clouds cleared one morning, I could see more of the mountains in the distance. This poem came to me as I thought, there are always more mountains. I started considering how we all have these mountains we’re climbing, all the ones we’ve already climbed, and all the things in between.
Keep climbing your mountain, but remember to stop and take in the view. Reflect on how far you’ve come.
As always, thank you for reading.
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