I stood in a straight narrow valley between two great mountains beneath the shadow of the eagle’s wings and wondered which way to go. Snow hung on sheer rock cliffs, and all I could think of was to turn back, but there was no road behind me, just a dark cold mountain that held me captive.

 

I could not fly above the world like the eagle, nor burrow beneath the ground. It seemed like man should be able to mount and ride the wind. Why was I in the valley? Why did the dark reflection of the mountain trouble me? Sure, it was only a dream, but the gloom of it hung with me even as the sweetness of the day awakened.

 

Can we ever return by the way we came? After we spend all our powers will we find the way? I used to ask when I would ever reach the mountain top, only to have the answer come to me to look for the mountaintops in the valley. They are there spreading their brightness as we pace by in silence. Why then do we groan instead of lifting up our grief in joy?

 

I began to look at what I could not see, and the darkness was swallowed up by the light. Those great mountains became delicate and graceful, void of devouring perils. Therein is the art of the greatest liar. To bring us to utter ruin and keep us downtrodden beneath his feet instead of spreading our wings like the eagle.

 

It is an easy trap, but a fools’ game.

 

Fool one’s do not care,

For folly is their lot.

An evening of despair,

Of things now forgot.

 

They strive against the will,

Refusing to move on.

They seek until they’re still,

Till all their days are gone.

 

There is no glory in refusing the call, no king on the road of death, but wisdom comes when you step out on your path, peer into the darkness and start off singing. After you walk through it will be a sweetness you have never tasted.

 

May we all keep going.

 

May we all be better for the going.