Counting Mountains by Flyaway1
There is never just one
mountain to climb.
Each mountain is followed by the next.
I am weary of the hard places.
There is no rest-
no walking out of my life.
I have lost count of
the mountains- maybe a
hundred or more.
I have fought to just
breathe in my struggle
to reach the top.
Scars cover my soul,
bearing record of where
I have been.
I am tired and growing old.
I wonder if the mountain before me will be my last.
Where is the purpose?
The accounting of my toil
From the top, all I see is the
horizon stretching out before me with no end.
An illusion of a place, where the sky reaches out to touch the land.
The mountain before me looks impossible and insurmountable.
My old eyes can barely see the top.
I believe that I can not take another step, but the mountain calls me out.
I hear my name, stunned
that I have been seen and found.
Why did I doubt?
God was with me and walked with me up every mountain.
Tears blur my sight, knowing that God has given me the faith that will carry
me through to the end.
Heaven is waiting - stretched out in every direction for-
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