By Arya Salimon
My life had been a tale of freefall,
From the mountain peaks, I fell to earth;
Long I tried pushing the mountain,
I got drained, the more I tried.
At dawn, I see the mountain peaks,
Glistening with the yellow snow,
Dreams of glory flash before me,
The tales of my conquerings.
The more I repeated the stories of old,
The lesser the crowd grew;
Ten years hence, I realised,
The mountain was not the glory.
Rather, me attempting to conquer, was the real enigma.
I started looking away from the mountains,
Suddenly it dawned on me the beauty of the valleys,
I kept the mountains for another day,
And learnt to enjoy the valley.
Escapism, some may call it,
But, long have I lost interest in the mountains,
I may envy the mountaineers several years hence,
But the beauty of the valley grew on me.
For there is no right or wrong,
In this journey we call life,
Enjoy the circus as long as it last,
For the dusk of life is fast upon us.
At the end of time, I may say with grief,
The story of the mountain that I left behind;
But, hope whispered the promise,
That the unexplored valley held.
By Arya Salimon
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