The Rung

It would be a lonely trek across the icy slopes and devil's crevasse where only ghosts of the damned dare to go. I travelled day and night with little rest broke bread with pica and marmots listened to long faced mountain goats telling tales of grizzled miners and pulsing veins of fool's gold. When I reached the meadow of blossoms there was a floating ladder with a silver bottom rung A siren in a rain cloud clanged climb if you think this the path to find your truest love. So, I climbed for days and months on end I climbed through the valley of thinning dreams until my palms and mind turned devils red. I even climbed past the house of God who never looked me in the eye when he grumbled... "Always honor faith and do carry on." I became lost and snow blinded but I followed faith into its thinning air straight into an opaque mirror of death which was cleared by the mercy of an angel's breath. Every time I Thought the love nugget was won the sirens screeched with laughter as love added yet another silver rung. God was never far behind and never looked me in the eye when he grumbled "Always honor faith, do carry on-carry-on"