Riding rough and ragged like a rickshaw on a road
Made of gravel, glass, and cobblestone
Carried on in couples, and in clusters, with companions
To a destination that we reach alone
Where the hills are harrying and harder grows the trail
Weather goes from good to bad to worse
Handing out a solace in the sun before succinctly
Making every second step feel like reverse
Feet and feelings fumble ever forward on a trail
Littered now with nails and faded news
Trudging torn and tired seeking triumph through the trial
Where the end is rarely ever one we choose
Where the mountains mock us like a monster in a maze
Windows turn to doors and turn to walls
Leading us to ladders where we lower, feet so leaden
To a place we never tried to find at all