Valley

It is a journey of more than a thousand miles.

You weave your own path sliding past the plains and forests,

Dreaming to be at the mountain top.

You hastily begin the climb when a voice tells you it’s the wrong peak,

And beseech you to go down and trace a new path.

But, alas, when you do

You find that the valley is not the friendly guide it once was.

Its overgrown thickets now bewilders you,

Its streams that once quenched your thirst have become mighty rivers

That now do not let you take a sip.

Its darkness obscures the life-giving rays of the sun,

While the thatch on its heads hide the beautiful blue sky.

But without the valley, there is no mountain to seek,

And no journey left to explore and see, to touch and feel, to suffer and learn.

Its darkness and coldness is indeed bitter,

But will you rush along any path to the mountain's top,

And lie to yourself that it is all about seeing that perfect sunrise?