Slopes

At the bottom of the scenic slopes
you can’t see the mountain’s summit
unable to know what lies at the very top
or be sure the climb will bring
the promises of ascension’s joy.

The mind brews in anxiety
so raging from the worry,
will this trip really be a success?

Yet, unable to focus
on the reason for reaching the peak,
it gets lost in a maze of confusion,
a labyrinth of doubts and questions
until nothing looks clear again.

Just standing and not moving
to wait for the wind to somehow
blow away the mental fog,
hours slip away in the haze
another day passes without change,

Within a voice murmurs
while attempting to reclaim some answers
over how to find away out
of this pit where life has fallen.

But just sitting back and deciding
time will somehow provide a solution
by flipping a light switch,
though not having a clue
on where it exists.

It becomes a journey in circles
one taken without a map
ever assuming you’ll find the exit
and continuing to move
so it give a feel of making sense.