I climb a mountain, and cannot see where the journey ends. i may be half way up. I may only have done a fifth of the way. Or maybe, I will reach the top tomorrow. I don't know, noone knows.

this has been a difficult journey, and it is too tempting sometimes to just let go, to slide down-no more pain, no more effort, no more...... And yet I keep climbing, day and night, sharp rocks slicing my fingers to shreads, blood marking my path.

this journey is my life. sometimes i stop the desperate scrambling for a while, stop and look up, and then wonder-how much longer? And why? So much is left behind, and is so much still to gain, and to lose...As old wounds heal slowly, new ones appear. things so important in the past fade, become a faint guilty twinge somewhere deep deep within the ribcage. Dreams come true and, as they become real, lose their colours and fall to the ground...