The Climb

Wandering in the foothills,
tripping on shyness like creeping vines,
studying outdated, unspecific guides,
searching for a sign,
they look to the sky,
awed by the glow of the colors that bleed
with the morning light.
A shared moment.
This is the sign they need,
no more waiting for the stars to align.
And so, they climb.

There are plenty of times
they wonder if it's worth it,
think they might quit,
think of calling it a day,
heading their separate ways.
But when a storm hits,
they persevere,
they move past the fear,
they learn to share
so it's second nature.

When they get tired,
they carve out a place
to give some space to rest.
Sometimes it's for the best,
necessary to catch a breath.
Then they carry on,
helping each other one step higher,
one step after another,
playing keep up, some healthy competition,
pausing to admire the view from these heights.
Isn't it nice?
Doesn't it make you want to be kind
to everyone who dreams of seeing it,
as you used to do?
No photo can compare to being there.

The mountain is ever-growing.
For a lifetime, they keep going,
never fully knowing its total extent
or what's on the other side of it.
A trail of first times,
milestones and setbacks,
and a non-existent finish line.
When dusk falls for the final time,
the kind moon shows them
how high they have climbed.