Atop the Cliffs of Time

The precipice looms before me, its jaws yawning wide.

The ocean roars below, waves of raging blue and white smashing against golden sand and craggy bedrock,

Unyielding and furious in its violent assault.

Beneath me, I watch as the sand shifts and slides,

Carried by the capricious wind as it howls in glee, playing among the nearby trees.

The castle, standing tall and proud, its spires twirling up to the heavens, gazes ahead at the deep waves of blue,

Defiant and unconquered over the challengers that have risen over the centuries,

With its deep and ragged wounds carved into the facets of weathered, battle-hardened stone.

What eventually brings to us the harvest of our patience?

Is it merely the passage of time?

Is it the willpower and effort that we exert, even in the times when we deem it fruitless and futile?

A single trickle of water, over time, slices through even the sturdiest of stone, eking out its way through the most stoic of opposition.

The entire landscape changed forevermore,

Simply because the current never once thought of yielding against insurmountable odds.

And when the first brick is laid, painstakingly carved from the land,

Little by little, beginning its ascent into the skies,

As many more like it take formation amongst its ranks,

Becoming the undisputed ruler of all it surveys,

Towering above all in might and prestige,

Its walls and edges lasting for centuries and more to come.

What then, could we imagine, if we had chosen to yield early, and never reach what might have been?

The final stretch, at which point we chose to give up

May very well have been the final stretch we needed to achieve our deepest dreams.