ahead the path steepens

***

approach it from the side

any side

it is the same

cartoonanvil cube of black

(untold the mass, but sure it is to be

great)

sitting lazily thoughtlessly down in gulch

the ground about damp

muddy

sloggy

(sluggish feet sure to stick,

slip)

yet it must be moved

lifted up

grasped heaved out

(and soon, or deeper sinks into

bog)

shakinghead and lookingabout, i hear

no shouts of pull, think

no reasons why, see

no friendly aiding arms, find

no fulcrum, pulley, lever, rope, am and can do

(nothing)

i am going to need

more

so much more than

these hands

this strength

this allotment of minutes, hours

more than this sometime motive

more than this maybe heart

more than these almost dreams

more than this only if mind

.

more than this

never soul

ever

more

will i need

to be

get

do

this

when is now

why is must

how is the only what

***

Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty.  – Theodore Roosevelt

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