I climb one of your paths, pine needles crunching beneath me, eyes drifting to the clouds guarding your peak. I will climb until I reach it, even should my leg muscles snap or blood run from the holes in my shoes. Do not tempt me with guilt, for I refuse to believe that I’m running away. No, I’m running forward. Perhaps up there, balanced between heaven and earth, I’ll find the answers I need.
Stand tall then, and take me heavenward; for who but a mountain could reach so near eternity?