Sometimes we plod heavy through the days;
Sometimes we plod light; but
Sometimes our plodding becomes a runway for flight.
Then take-off we do, into the highlands we soar,
Far above the din of chatter and care.
A new perspective we glimpse,
Those things far below,
Like dust and leaves scattered,
When the wind decides to blow.
Sometimes our plodding gives us wings to soar,
Then there is only knowing…
All is as it should be…
As altitude transforms attitude, and
Gives us eyes to see.


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