I start at
the bottom of the towering ladder
As the rain falls on my hood with a light pitter-patter,
And the wind blows fiercely, with surprising strength,
But I still cling tightly to the rungs at length.
howling wind dies, I begin to climb,
And my poor muscles get sore with the passing time;
But I do not and will not give in, I climb higher,
Though my aching body burns with an internal fire.
wind picks up, but I pay no heed.
I keep climbing, though the cold makes my knuckles bleed,
And the rain stings my skin with its horrible fury,
But I'm slow and I'm careful and I do not hurry.
wind roars violently in my ear,
I wipe away a droplet of rain, like a tear,
Reaching each hand upward, one rung at a time,
I continue my strenuous and everlasting climb.