A mountain casts one oblong shadow dark enough to feel smothering. To approach it sends long fingers of nerve down the spine. Every step in procession breeds anxiety. The mind becomes defensive,
In a way, the darkness feels pleasant once it’s gotten used to. It’s like a warm and heavy blanket.
To climb up and over is accepting the unknown path stretching out from the sun kissed valley waiting to be tread.
But light exposes so much, sows a sense of hypervulnerability. It’s being naked without knowing who watches.
I used to love the freedom of baring it all; was unafraid of who bore witness to my expression. Perhaps the love for it ebbs and flows with the various seasons of life. Likes, dislikes, desires. They are waves in a violent ocean. Constants fail to be reliable more often than not. In a universe built upon entropy, the idea of avoiding change is a pipe dream.
The mountain’s dark blanket smothers the plains known so well. The mountain itself becomes looming and frightening. An obstacle that sows fear upon the thought of challenge. Conquering it breeds similar emotion but deep down it is known the reward for the journey is far greater than the reward awaiting in familiarity.
It must be done. One question remains.
How to do it?
Skarface 
Success often depends more on the willingness to jump off the cliff than whether or not you fail in your effort to fly.
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