Prod, God And All

PROD, GOD AND ALL Standing before me, the mountain; tall, black, strong and impregnable; challenging my nerve and gumption; ready to laugh if I fail and dribble. But I must cross it, that's my will, my life; need dire and my future. Between being sceptic and hopeful at the task uphill, I fritter. The lull is painful and I stare at all directions for some aid; not sure, who's there really to care. I prayed the God and looked for some sign, odd. Someone's there at the altitude; real or my pipe dream's contour knew not! With a nod he gave me a prod to scale the hill with new vigour. I sweat and pant in my clamber; of and on looking at that man; waving my hands with an ardour that I'm going to reach him soon. Tiresome; yet faith as my strength I trog and trek to reach the apex. But to my surprise I saw no one to share my win; accept my thanks. It's now just silence and blankness. I bask there in the sky blues and caressing soothing winds. It's bliss; a winner's euphoric proud stand. I started looking up and down. Found a man at the foot of the hills; waved him with a smile to come on. Now I am his prod, God and all.