Poetry

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My Stair

I was born on the bottom step of my stair. With each passing day I went a little higher. But it was dark, too dark. And the steps were not strong. With jeering faces and wicked laughs, I wondered why I kept going on. Then I met a girl who had a light. She told me about a man who was giving out lights for free. I gaped at her and asked, "How could this be so? Where is this man? I must find him and his lights." Then she told me that I had to trust him to guide me and not trust anything else. So I tried, and I found a light sitting on the stair. I picked it up and kept on walking up and up until I reached the top. It was a sight. It was worth going through the dark just to see this. There was pure gold everywhere. My light was only a glimpse of this beauty and wonder. Without all the filth and garbage that were on my stair. And then I knew I had found my destiny.

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