Member-only story
Prose poetry
A Stairway in Modernity
Exits onto Eternity
Were Escalators made of marble, the feet of millions
would polish these treads smooth.
Youthful vigor urges us — Ascend
cast our net wide to encompass the wind.
Why not? As it flows through our hair
We look back and stare
at retreating views and memories
jam-packed with adventure.
What lies before us is limitless space
that disappears into a vague triangle
obscured by the fog of desire.
We each react differently to the unknown
Be it chase, race, or stammering halt.
The stairs keep moving us onward
Upward with no regard for our pace.
Whether we run — skip — crawl
Matters little or not all.
Whether our heart pounds
with dread — joy — surrender
Or trammeled silent by suffering
We will ascend or descend and
take our place with the multitude
inhabiting the starry dust of the asteroid belt.
