To me, it was like a road.
Set so high above the world,
That all one could see were clouds
If they were to look down.
In the distance there was the peak of a mountain
Made of black rock
Jutting out from the sea of wisp,
It seemed to call to me
In my heart,
Subtly seducing me with the unknowable.
Tentatively, I took a step forward.
Then another and another
Until I was running with all my strength toward it.
I did not pause to remark
That there was no wind in my face as I ran,
Something I feel now
That I should have realized.
I was too caught in the moment
To even consider the strangeness of it all.
Like a child looking up at a beloved parent,
I just accepted without thinking what I was seeing.
I ran for what seemed like hours.
Or were they minutes, seconds even?
When I finally stopped it was not because I was tired,
But because I seemed to have made no progress.
If anything, I was further away.
What had looked like a peak,
Was now only a tip.
Barely a discoloration in the grey sea.
I ran some more,
Surging forward until I could no longer see
Even the barest trace of the mountain.
Without even the world to keep me company
I sat down in despair.
Even to this day
I could not tell you why I felt this way,
Only that at that moment every fibre of my being
Yearned to go to that mountain.
It seemed to me at that point
More important than any other endeavour
I had ever embarked upon.
Tears filled my eyes
And ran down my cheeks.
I looked up at the heavens
And cursed them.
What I wanted more than anything
Had been denied to me.
It was then that a man came
Walking down the road.
He was in the same situation as I,
But seemed utterly unperturbed by it.
When I asked him about it,
He replied simply.
“Have you considered going backwards?”