Fret Not

F

Come, let us lace up our hiking footwear;
 [strap a set of spikes on to our shoes, fret not].
The trails are slick, and it is freezing cold;
 pray, is that what hinders you?
 Fear of avalanches? Fear of slipping?
 Tripping?
 Fear of the turbulent wind ripping
your skin off your fragile frame?
 Oh, come on, fret not.


 Look at those luscious landscapes,
gently undulating hills, thrilling us no end.
Let your eyes scour the scintillating snowscapes.
Winding pathways, meandering endlessly.
 Fret not!
What did you just mutter?
Stop stuttering; banish that clutter from your mind.  

Come there, hold my hand, and let us climb higher.
Foggy, is it?
Come, let us sit on this log for a while,
till the fog disappears.
Oh, forget the croaking frogs.
[They are just attention seekers]
Ah, that is a beautiful creek. So serene.
Look, do you see that staircase to a new world?
That faint outline in the fog?
Come, let us hold hands and ascend those stairs
One by one.
One by one, let us touch those peaks.   
Look at that sliver of hope, groping,
 loping towards us, trying to embrace us
 in its sanguine warmth.   
See, we are almost there.

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