It rained all day, and into the night,
But nothing could stop her from walking,
On fogged roads with nothing in sight,
Hope and fear began battling.
Her feet kept moving, as her heart skipped beats,
Her eyes kept crying, as her mind stayed steady.
The mist was nasty, and made vicious wreaths,
The rain and the storm, made her feel heady.
Yet she knew that virtue, was in withstanding,
Whatever came in the way of her goal.
The joy of the treasure, laid in its finding,
And the defeated were those who needed cajole.
She fell down and got up, to fall once again,
But blood nor bruise, could deter her mission.
Ashamed was the storm and the mist and the rain.
Who could stand in the way of a firm ambition?