The Stairway I have always known.
Whose banisters I could never discern.
Those cryptic steps are polished, woodtone.
Its temperament bent and taciturn.
I tread in a place of no return—
The first newel post remains unshown.
Sense not its start or when it’d adjourn—
The Stairway I have always known.
Strained to gauge its depth with my foot alone—
Sinks into oblivion, its borders not stern.
Ne’er do I slip on stairs in secrets sown—
Whose banisters I could never discern.
The ground beneath me does brightly burn—
Its garishness churns my reflection unknown.
Stairs to come glow mild, as trudged ones to gloom turn—
Those cryptic steps are polished, woodtone.
I stomp to break its skeleton, its bone—
To hear a thud or crash, its voice I yearn.
The stairs ne’er speak: no creak, no groan—
Its temperament bent and taciturn.
I put my foot forward again and learn—
Not a stair but flat floor, my fitting throne.
Onward I march, this freedom did I earn,
‘Til the landing, the sly sojourn, trips me—
O’er
The Stairway,
Written by Deepthi Priyanka C for MTTN
Edited by Tulika Somani for MTTN
Featured Image by Bhargabi Mukherjee for MTTN