Weary.
The trail is steep.
Days have turned into nights
and back into days again as
I climb that rocky path to a new place.
Will I make it to the top or
turn around? I cannot
know now. I am
weary.
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“I’m pressing on the upward way, New heights I’m gaining every day; Still praying as I onward bound, ‘Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.’ Lord, lift me up and let me stand By faith on heaven’s tableland’ A higher plane than I have found, Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.”
This old Baptist hymn started playing in my mind when I read your poem. Hang in there! Almost done!
Thanks:))
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