🌄 2: The First Step
(Day 2— Peewee resists, clings, complains, and yet… moves.)
Under the bed the lantern glows,
But Pee-wee grumbles as he rose.
“Too bright,” he mutters, “far too soon…
I liked my shadows — safe cocoon.”
He hugs his cloak of dusty doubt,
A threadbare wrap he won’t throw out.
“It’s mine,” he huffs, “my comfy grime —
Why climb a mountain at this time?”
The lantern flickers, warm and clear,
Its whisper nudging past his fear:
“First step begins when clinging parts,
When pauper hands release just start!.”
But Pee-wee stamps in his woe,
“I’m not prepared! I’m slow, you know.
And what if climbing makes me fall?
I’d rather stay just… small, that’s all.”
He clutches tight his pebble pride,
A weight he carries by his side.
“It’s precious,” Pee-wee claims, “my stone —
It proves I’m me, and mine alone.”
Yet still the lantern’s golden sigh
Unthreads the knot behind his eye.
A softer truth begins to seep:
The climb is calling — wide and deep.
One shaky foot, one stubborn drag,
He steps beyond his dusty rag.
The lantern brightens, pleased and near —
The first step taken through the fear.
And though he moans with every stride,
A crack appears along his pride.
For even clinging hearts can shift
When light extends its patient gift.