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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"
Copyright ©
Anthony Biaanco
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