Photo by Jonathan Knepper on Unsplash


The snow of failure, it falls on me,

The chilling cloak wraps itself around me;

The cloak of princes and paupers,

The cloak of paragons and fools,

I know not what to do with the layers of ice,

It chills me to the bone, holding the painful memories in,

I keep climbing the mountain seeking.

What do I seek?


Victory, over the past.

This path, others have walked ( their footprints ease my steps)

Even so, the path is steep, and I fall backward,

Failure takes me... Again.


Had I not learned to fall on the hills, I would be dead.

Another behind me falls with me.

We walk together.

As we talk, the cloak becomes warmer, the ice falls off.

The memories free themselves to flutter away.


We tell each other our stories.

Warmness fills my heart, and I smile.

Eventually, he moves off, and I mourn his departure.

Even so, I must press forward again.

Even as the cloak of failure warms and chills again and again,

I know there will always be a reason for the pain.



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