most think the challenge of climbing mountains
is reaching the top
sweating
aching
heart pounding
pushing past fear
step by step
to finally stand victorious
in the rare air
above the clouds of ordinary being
surrounded by distant views
of unclaimed summits
but
with each descending step
the real work begins
returning to the valley of everyday existence
the spirit begins to shrink
atrophy
for it can no longer be fed
by ordinary life
the real challenge of climbing mountains
is never surrendering the summits of our dreams
to stand alone
bold and free
with only mountaintops
for company
walking through a cloud of grey
the beginning of a quiet day
I felt a tickle on my face
a soft caress, a moment’s grace
and smiled
as I was gently kissed
by the tender morning mist
As I had for many mournful months
I sat at ocean’s edge
alone
lost in stillness
mesmerized by the tranquility
of wavelets lapping
up the silent sand
the sun reached down
and stroked my hand
warm, soft, strong
much as her touch once
comforted my starving soul
then memories blinded tearful eyes
the darkened day turned cold
but then I heard the sounds of joy
the sounds of life renewed
children laughing
singing, screaming
a songbird flitting by
and I heard it
the voice within
at last,
there is hope
again
tio stib
You might also enjoy: <a href="https://travelswithtio.com/2018/02/22/blind-man-on-a-bench/">Blind Man on a Bench</a>, <a href="https://travelswithtio.com/life-journey-thoughts/">Life Journey Poems and Prose</a></p>
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling, 1895
Source: A Choice of Kipling’s Verse (1943)
When I’m down and feeling sorry for myself, “If” is one of the poems I return to for inspiration. Here are YouTube links to great readings of this poem, the first by Holly Musgrove, the second by Sir Michael Caine-
there are bedtimes when
I dream in peace
a mind released to roam
then others when
the clock grinds on
in purgatory’s womb
I lay now in eternal night
counting endless sheep
hoping this will somehow lead
to mindless, blissful sleep
the first time we walked together
we got lost
the perfect path
to knowing each other
she never complained
simply smiled
marveled at flowers and bird
held my hand
trusted
we’ve walked on
through mountain meadows
singing with bees and butterflies
dancing barefoot on foggy beaches
gleefully splashing in the waves
hiding under an umbrella in Spring rain
sampling strawberries at the Farmers’ Market
gossiping with passing neighbors
skipping to the grocery store
plopping onto our favorite bench
