Thorns
by Dillon Collins

The wind is blowing,
the trees sway in place.

It's raining a little,
hitting you in the face.

Your palms are sweaty,
as you think of how far you've come.

Your head is spinning,
as you realize what must yet be done.

Another step is the last thing you think you could do,
but another step is the first thing that must be done to be true.

So we will continue stepping through reproachments and scorn,
pushing onward for the one, who carried our thorns.