Miles and miles.

Miles and miles I’ve walked
not a rain cloud in sight,
beneath these calloused feet lay dry
the parched earth, till to knees I fall.
Miles and miles, crawled
palms red and bleeding till raw,
unable to hold the weight of tears
stings and burns like coal.
Miles and miles.
So long the march, lonesome and tired
fraught with doubts, barbed and thorny,
will I ever arrive, at the gates of thoughts,
where dreams have birthed a desire strong
from whence I shall not return, be what may fall.

Miles and miles I’ve come,
the shores I’ve left all but blurred
out of reach, gone.

Miles and miles. Long.

(The poem is dedicated to everyone’s struggle to achieve a dream they have dared dream, including my own.)

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