In Vain

I asked for a simple sign.

I got signs.  Many more than

I could follow

all at once.

I began crossing them off.

The days were searing my soul.

The nights wrenching to break free.

Always falling short.

A hailstorm of frustration

pelting my pillow

until I awoke in sweat

no closer

to my goal

than when I started.

Days were piled upon days.

A top was reached, finally.

The climb

was done.

I was home.

My work was

not in vain.

Categories: creative, creative writing, Poetry, Uncategorized, writing | Leave a comment

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