The Trail

Every breath becomes more difficult. Every molecule of oxygen struggling to enter the sickened lungs that have been laying in this broken body for ages.

Inhaling in anguish. Exhaling in strength.

The pounding of the soles of calloused feet, tumbling, stumbling, rumbling over the endless rocky trail.

Stones crackling, gravel scraping, thorns from the brush clinging and gripping on to wet skin. Glazed by hard work and determination.

The uphill climb, tedious, tenuous, trying.

Trickles of cool mist coat the flesh of a burdened soul.

The trail is the only moment of the day where thoughts are not starving and desperate.

When they don’t consume the mind of the beholder.

This is the trail.