The sky sheens a vibrant purple as the sun sets upon the top of the
mountain. Darkness slowly covers the landscape. Night is approaching. Step by
step I make my way along the path, pushing on through the night with the hope of
daybreak always warming me. The trees are barren and hollow, and planets are
scarce. I just want to get out of here.
Behind me lies the mountain that I have just descended from. How lovely it was to feel the crisp wind blow into my face as I stood at the highest reaches of the cliff. Decent is never joyous. How I wish I could have stayed there forever, but my journey beckons me forth and the landscape is ever changing.
As I trudge along, the path seems to stretch out before me. Feet become miles and miles become leagues. How will I ever find the strength to continue along this seemingly never-ending path? What hope is there of an escape? All I can seem to do is put one foot in front of another. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, and breathe out. Just keep going.
Then I feel it, the foot of it. Each step now takes me higher up. I’ve reached the mountain. I’m finally rising. Even though another valley enviably follows the mountain, I choose to believe that past that is yet another, higher mountain. For, to every valley, there is a mountain.
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