The mountain, she believed, was made of fulfilled dreams she could only wish for...
All of which lived at the very top.
Out of her reach.
Scaling the mountain, she thought, was only for the strong and the quick.
The top could only be reached by the smart and the brave.
And so she watched as others climbed, convinced the journey for them was enchanted,
making it ever so easy...for them.
While she watched, she noticed the climbers sometimes fell,
especially those who took the shortest path.
Straight up, it seemed, was not the only way to the top.
It was the path that wound around,
switchbacks that sometimes detoured to other paths.
A journey of twists and turns where she suddenly found herself at the top,
gazing down at a life fulfilled.
The dreams, she realized, were not found at the top,
but gathered along the way.
(Disclaimer: if it seems disjointed and incomplete, I wrote as I drew...
so it IS disjointed and incomplete.Or, rather, unedited...mostly.)