I walked too fast on those first steps the day I began my journey, so fast that I'm walking too slow for now, too tired to catch up, satisfied enough to see others passing by.
Some walk hand-in-hand, side by side, others have someone waiting for them a few steps ahead.
There were times when I see someone on what seems like the end of the heavenly long stairs, waiting for me.
But then the man waved a hello to a woman behind me, and by then, the closer I get, the further the edge of the stairs seemed, and it made me realize, that the end of the journey is still a long way to go.
At hard times, I'd take a sit, straighten my legs down those steps, it always feels good, taking a rest like that. But then I'd be too lazy to continue climbing the stairs up, assuming days spent daydreaming would taste better instead.
But the wooden-stairs is not an escalator, neither is my life, and daydreaming won't get me anywhere near anyone I'd be willing to daydream about or with the whole time.
So slowly, I lift my tired legs up, forcing them to take baby steps up and ahead as I rewind the lines they used to say to me each time I feel like giving up, "the stairs will end somewhere, and when it does, your endeavor to find him will worth the waiting".
inspired by a post thoughtfully written
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