The Path
The Race to the Mountain Top
I wrote this during a winter walk when I realized something about ancient watchtowers: they were always built on the highest ground, but no one lived there. The sentinel’s post was temporary by design. Constant vigilance would break a person.
We’ve forgotten this. In a world where being a billionaire or seven-figure earner is seen as the ultimate measure of success, we race to the top and try to build fortresses there, mistaking the vantage point for the destination.
The Path
We race ahead, no time to stray,
Chasing a dream they sold as fate.
The path is worn, the tale is old,
Yet still, we climb, the lie takes hold.
I see the footprints, worn and deep,
A trail where countless hopes now sleep.
For one reason or another, we step in line,
Not questioning the grand design.
We chase a dream, a shining peak,
A summit where the victors speak.
Yet scattered here along the way,
Are shattered dreams that lost their sway.
The road is littered, torn and stained,
By all who climbed but never gained.
Still, we walk eyes fixed ahead,
Ignoring the warnings of the dead.
The higher we go, the lonelier it gets,
A thinning air of cold regrets.
There is no room for all to stay,
Yet still, we climb pushed by the lie we bought.
And when we reach that hollow peak,
The truth unveils, the light is bleak.
Cold and barren, hard to breathe,
A place where nothing dares to seed.
The higher we go, the more it takes,
The more we hoard, the more we break.
Survival whispers in our ear,
Stripping away what once was clear.
And in the name of self, we grasp,
We isolate, exploit, outlast.
But the summit was no home for man,
Just ice and stone, just fleeting sand.
But the top was never meant to hold,
Just ice and stone, just fleeting gold.
It serves a purpose not a home,
A place to see, a place to roam.
A vantage point, a watchful stand,
To scan the sky, to read the land.
To seek the path, the battles near,
To chart the course beyond our fear.
But none can live on peaks alone,
A life of vigil turns to stone.
So when we glimpse the road ahead,
We must return, retrace our tread.
For though at times we walk alone,
The journey is not ours alone.
We must descend, rejoin the way,
And guide the lost to break the fray.
It is in the descent that wisdom grows,
In lifting others, the purpose shows.
For only then, with hearts set free,
Do we find the will to climb once more.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.” — Proverbs 3:5-6