The Pillars in the Sky

I find myself climbing up a ladder. The rungs cold to the touch, each step heavy with uncertainty. The mist surrounds me, thick and endless, pressing against me like a weight. My vision is lost in the white haze, and I can’t tell if I’m moving up or just holding on. Every step feels like a struggle, as if the world beneath me is slipping away and all I have is the next rung. I look up, hoping for some sign of where I’m heading, but all I see is more of the same—endless gray metal rising into the fog.

The pressure of it all is overwhelming, but there’s no other choice but to continue. Each breath feels tight in my chest, each movement slow and laborious. I’m exhausted, my body trembling under the strain, and the uncertainty feels like it’s closing in on me. I can’t see the end. All I can do is keep going.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, I begin to see it. A faint outline ahead—just a few meters more. The mist begins to lift, thinning as if it’s being pushed back. The air clears, and for the first time, I can breathe without that crushing weight. My body is still weary, but there’s a strange calm settling over me. I push forward, my heart racing, knowing I’m almost there.

At last, I reach the top. I step onto a massive pillar, a towering metal structure rising from the sea of clouds below me. The sun shines bright overhead, warm against my skin. The sky above is deep blue, vast and endless, stretching into space. I stand tall, arms wide, feeling the light breeze tugging at my hair. It’s strange, how light everything feels now. The pressure, the confusion, the weight of it all—gone. Below me, the clouds stretch out, hiding everything that once mattered. All the struggles, the pain, the past—it’s covered by the clouds, out of sight. Nothing else matters here, except the stillness.

In the distance, I see more pillars, rising just as mine does, piercing the clouds and stretching into the sky. They are far away, too far to reach, but they are there, like silent witnesses to their own journeys. I don’t know who they belong to, or what they mean, but I can feel them, standing there, just as real as my own.

I stand there, looking out over the endless expanse, feeling a peace I never knew was possible. The warmth of the sun fills me, not just on my skin, but in my heart. There’s a sense of belonging, a knowing that this—this moment—was worth everything. The climb, the struggle, the exhaustion. It was all worth it for this small, fleeting moment of peace.

And then, I know. It’s time. Time to let go. There’s no fear, no hesitation. I’ve reached the end, and I can see it all for what it was. Sadness, pain, and moments of despair—they were all part of the journey. But now, they’re just a distant memory, covered by the clouds. Everything fades, and in the stillness, there’s only peace.

I close my eyes. The final step is a quiet surrender. I step forward, lean over the edge, and let go. No regrets. No fear. Just a soft embrace of non-existence. I welcome it, open arms, ready to leave behind what was and step into what will be.