Carry On

The road I travel is narrow and made of stone, never flat, always an uphill curve

On either side is the Forest of Temptations

As I labor up the mountains the Forest tempts me with rest and play

Oh, the sweet trees, and the singing stream, just what I want

Turn my head, look away, eyes on the prize: the top of the mountain

And I have to be good climber

For over my shoulder lay dozens of watching eyes, criticizing my every slip and misstep.

Behind me a mountain chain of my past success, and a deep valley of my failures

I see the mountains and feel proud, but the valley reminds me to keep moving, life doesn't stop

No! I must climb the next mountain!

There is always one more

If I go too fast I will slip, but too slow I will fall behind, I must find my perfect rhythm

Mine is of late nights and early mornings, no rest for the weary

There have been days when I have felt discouraged and too tired to take another step

No denying I have desired to leave this weary way of life

But the struggle to the top is sweeter than the fall to the bottom

So I carry on

This poem is about: 
Me

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