The Brecon Beacons loomed in the distance, their snow-capped peaks smudged by a veil of mist. I snapped a picture from the base, and the image felt as though I was staring at an unattainable dream—a far-off cathedral built for gods, not mortals like me.
The peaks seemed untouchable, enshrined in a kind of holy fog, as if they were hiding some secret I wasn’t meant to know. But what else could I do? I tightened my laces and started walking.
The trail began innocently enough, a gradual incline, a whisper of mud clinging to my boots, and the wind humming a tune, as if to say ‘this place is not for you’. Step by step, the Beacons grew taller and stranger. The snowline hovered above me like an unspoken threat, a reminder that everything good in life comes with its sharp edges and cold hands. I wondered if I’d even make it. I wondered now why I’d started at all.
Somewhere just below the snowline, I stopped to catch my breath. That’s when I saw it. A deer. Small, delicate, its legs like question marks frozen in mid-thought. It stared at me for a moment, eyes wide, then leapt away into the trees, vanishing like a memory you can’t quite hold onto. I watched the spot where it disappeared, as if waiting for it to come back and explain itself. But it didn’t. And why should it? Some things are meant to be glimpsed, not understood.
Snow-capped peaks above,
Cold trials test weary feet—
I walk through the doubt.
The higher I climbed, the thicker the mist became. I felt like I was walking into a dream, one of those nonsensical ones where the setting changes as soon as you think you’ve figured it out. The snow crunched under my boots, and the world shrank to the size of my next step. The peaks I had seen from below were gone, swallowed by the fog. For a while, I thought I might be swallowed, too.
It was harder than I thought it would be, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it. But isn’t that how life feels sometimes? Like you’re staring up at some impossibly high peak, the path ahead hidden in mist, and every step forward feels like a gamble. But still, you keep going. Not because you’re sure you’ll make it, but because there’s nowhere to turn back to.
Then, suddenly, I was there. The mist broke like a spell lifting, and the summit unfolded in front of me. The snow glittered in the sunlight, and the peaks stretched out like an unrolled map. It was vast and beautiful and sharp-edged, and for the first time in hours, I felt like I could breathe.
Looking back down the trail, I thought of the image I’d taken at the base. That distant, unreachable peak was now beneath my feet. The mist that had seemed so impenetrable was gone, burned away by nothing more than time and effort. I thought about the deer, how it had stopped just long enough to remind me that there is beauty in the world and how it had raised my spirits to keep going.
The walk back down was easier, as it always is. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how the summit had felt. Like a small, personal victory. Like proof that the peaks in life—the ones that feel impossibly far away, hidden by fog and fear—are often closer than we think.
You just have to keep walking.
Your support makes a difference in my life and helps me create more of what you, and I, like. Thank you!
- Darkness, Power and Beauty
Horse’s steady gazeStrengthful eyes that dare to meetChallenge accepted Courage is the strength to face… Read more: Darkness, Power and Beauty - The Daffodil’s Song: A Lyrical Tribute to the Wonders of Spring
Daffodil so brightGolden petals, sunshine’s kissHope blooms anew As I wander through the garden, the… Read more: The Daffodil’s Song: A Lyrical Tribute to the Wonders of Spring - Acanthus: A Versatile Plant with a Rich Cultural Heritage
The Graceful Lines of an Acanthus Leaf. Acanthus is a genus of flowering plants native… Read more: Acanthus: A Versatile Plant with a Rich Cultural Heritage
Anthony's Literary Lens 
You must be logged in to post a comment.