The Climb.

I chase shadows over jagged cliffs

where longing blooms like fire against stone

The closer I reach, the further they slip

a dance of want and evade

as if desire itself is a sly teacher

teaching me the rhythm of patience.

And when the horizon bends toward my hands

fear rises like a tide I cannot hold back

can I cradle what I sought so fiercely?

Will it bend me into something unrecognizable,

a reflection of struggle lost

the fight that shaped the edge of me

now flattened into quiet possession?

I wonder if there is no more battle,

no friction to forge my heat,

will the flame inside me dim

or will it burn anyway

wild, unclaimed

still distinctly mine?

The climb is not just up the mountain

it is through myself

through desire, fear, and the ever-shifting mirror

of who I was and who I am becoming.