After a glimpse of life's trials, I sought a journey up the summit.
With not much effort, I was placed at the peak of the summit.
I looked through clouds and watched the universe with grace.
I wondered how weak the temptations were and how little effort was required to keep them at bay.
As I stayed with that view, a feeling of pity for the world enveloped me.
I started calling people to come up the summit. I threw a rope and extended my hands for them to climb up.
A few trials ensued, manifesting as desires that sought power, grace, holiness, and even prosperity.
I was moving closer to the things that I sought, and the trials became even more prevalent.
Sitting on a mountain top, I still had access to the heavens at will.
Music and arts divine decorated my heart with cushion and comfort.
Also, with every trial, I started losing sight of the summit.
The temples where the Goddess was praised still admitted me.
I could see grace descending in the form of forgiveness, and the Goddess sent Her people to remind me that I belonged to the summit.
My circle became limited: my family, a few friends, and a few things to be bothered about.
Every trial now appeared as a turbulent shock wave.
Every wave presented temptations smiling at me with audacity.
Even then, I loved the world and wanted to help those seekers of the summit.
I still believed I belonged to the summit, the domain attained with effortless grace.
But the smiling temptations invited me to join a journey in search of greater summits.
I had to die every night and be reborn every morning.
Sometimes the nights expanded beyond my will, basking in hell's glow.
The days became so rare that every sunshine mattered to keep my journey toward the greater summit.
One fine day, my legs retired, exhausted by the pain of the journey; the summit that I was chasing was a mere mirage.
Having no strength to move, I lay by a grassy yard, no longer desiring to climb, but only to survive the impending storm brewing in the neighborhood.
With every passing day amidst the storm, I started dying more willingly—all that I identified with, my holiness, grace, or power; let them all die and desert me in oblivion.
Misidentified, I died once and for all, only to find myself again at the foot of the mountain, among the common people.
The summit is afar now, and I am just born.
Whether I am in night or day is of less concern.
Whether I stay in the valley, amidst chaos, or upon the mountains, I know for sure that my un-aspiring spirit belongs to the summit, now and ever.
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