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“There is a mountain placed before us.
It's wide, big; high above the clouds.
With no way around it;
no choice about it.
Just to climb it,
even through low sighs.

Some mountains, we choose.
Often those that we pursue
are easy to climb.
They leave no bruise;
we step on them like crumbs.
No sweat, no fuse.
But also no valuable lesson.
Just an excuse after an excuse.

There are harsh sessions on the high mountain.
Hard lessons on the big mountain.
No breaks, no fountains.
Just hardships and rough times.
No awards, no rewards.
Just emotional, mental tides and fines.

Fine, we usually accept the challenge.
Out of options, we welcome the change.
An exchange of comfort for caution.
We become deranged for family.
For our children, friends, even lovers.
Some lovers who may become an enemy.
We become a destiny with no back covers.
With our back against the wall.
Our back totally exposed to all.

But, step by step,
day by day,
with our veins, we climb up but not in vain.
Some days we want to go back to our fortress.
Some days we only see black, no success.
But, after a while, mounting in grime,
we forget about the pain.
The hardships start to fade.

We start to familiarise the pain with the trees.
We accept the bushes and rocks as home.
We follow the footsteps of animals and bees;
looking for shortcuts to roam.
Seeking solace in the shade of what we see.
We seek and become one with isolation.

In isolation, we start to rely on ourselves more.
We learn to love all our sores;
to trust our own instincts.
We become stronger and sharper in senses.
And the stronger we become,
the faster we mount in fun.
In the end, we reach the top.
Out of it all,
we come out unbreakable, alive.
Tired but, surely, revived.”
― Mitta Xinindlu

“The Ticking Spiral by Stewart Stafford

Man - the only creature that knows it dies,
Creates structures to measure its demise.
To poke and prod with hows and whys;
Hours, seconds, melted candles of surprise.

From booming birth; to bankrupt death,
From nascent looks; to the last breath,
The torch is passed to generations yet.
To carry forth in a cycle reset.

The ticking clock of heartbeats ends,
As we say goodbye to family and friends,
To return to wherever we first transcend,
Time's ever-flowing river never bends.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“I was graced with this remarkable truth: “Knowing who you are in Jesus Christ makes it easier to function in this world.â€� I soon realized I didn't know who I was in Jesus
Christ. Not only did I not know my identity in Jesus Christ, but I also realized that I didn't know my Saviour enough to know myself. It's like, how can I know who I am if I don't
know who He is?”
― Shakara Ann Francis, A Mother’s Pain but Our Father Cares: A COLLECTION OF POEMS AND SPIRITUAL LESSONS FROM A FIRST-TIME MOTHER