The Stepping Stones

One day, I ran down a mountain slope,

Every where I looked there were hills and rugged tracks,

built by years of depression,

The rivers became valleys,

And it wound its way where the waters overflowed.


“How long did it take for the valley to be a part of this magnificence, do you know?” He asked me,

“It would have taken a thousand or maybe a million years,” I said. Well, I didn’t know how long exactly.

Valleys were once unfounded until the soil made way for the rivers to overflow,

and a new formation became a creation.


“Wow,” he said.

I ran down the slope, my feet barely within the confines of its rugged tracks,

Perhaps I couldn’t feel the rocks on the ground,

As I sprinted to the valley below,

In my eagerness, they were my stepping stones.


I wondered if I aged as I ran,

It was just like living my years and running towards a dream I wished for so,

Though the tracks were long, winding and uneven,

My vision stayed true to reach the nirvana below.


It was a long way down, nonetheless, I knew I would make it somehow,

It was up to me to decide which track to follow.


2 Comments on “The Stepping Stones

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