The Steepest Hill Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Some walk on paths of velvet gold,
While others tread on stones and thorn.
Some stories end before they're told,
And some are weary, travel-worn.

The sun does not shine on every face,
The rain will fall where it may choose.
We run inside a different race,
With different things to gain and lose.

Why must we ache? Why must we weep?
Why build a house upon the sand?
Why guard the promises we keep,
When time slips through an open hand?

Perhaps the struggle is the spark,
The way we make the shadows glow.
We light a candle in the dark,
Because we fear the depth below.

The finish line is cold and still,
A silent room, a closing door.
But we must climb the steepest hill
To know what we were living for.

We fight to breathe, to feel, to be,
To leave a ripple in the stream.
Though death is the inevitable sea,
We wake to finish out the dream.