Day 155 "The Mountain"

In a dream I find myself somewhere high up and along the edge of a mountain, I have always climbed this mountain, and I know now that for the rest of my days I will forever climb it, and as long as I draw breathe, I will only know this fight against gravity.

I look down below me to find that there is no ground to be seen below, just a heavy thick fog that chokes the base of a mountain I used to know like no other. These paths that once were so familiar have become strange to me, and at times frightening in their own way. Where once there had been a sense of space, time, and a place, there is now only the anxious understanding that nothing was ever fully realized or fully set in stone, and even this mountain itself shifts and changes within the encroaching mist.

I used to fear the climb, then I started to fear the fall, and in this moment neither hold any power over me. I made it here on my own, I challenged this titan in the face of defeat, and even if I were to fall from this height, I know that I may embrace the darkness below.

I know that I have no power but to hope and try, and if that is never enough to overcome these challenges placed before me, then I can exist happily in free fall that I at least attempted to rise above the thickest of fogs.

There is no way to see the top of this mountain, and even though there are sometimes breaks in the clouds above, every step higher does not seem to bring me closer to any vantage point that will give me the proper angle to see what is hidden.

In my dream I am aware that my life is bigger than my impossible will to control it.

Still I choose to climb, to hold on, and to rise above.

Always upward.

Always sensing the hungry fog below.

Always with hope.

Still I choose to climb against all my fears.