The Ladder of Denied Ascent

Outside golden temples we await
The augur’s foretelling
Of how our sacrifices will portend.
Blood poured
On the bronzed bull
Is meant to appease the Fates,
To hold taut the thread.
The sacerdotal rites promise prosperity
For those who worship the Invisible One,
Whose Hand guides our being.

The prophets speak of a ladder
To be climbed to reach the divine realm
That they inhabit.
But it is an illusion:
Made of water, it rains down on the aspirants’ heads
As their hands grasp at nothing
And the frantic flailing of the ascendants
Is met with amusement from the Olympian peaks.
They laugh,
That mortal men should dream
To be like gods, as themselves.

But there are those who saw the ladder
Against the Wall,
As not intended to be scaled,
But to tantalize and separate.
They shun the morsels thrown to the streets
From the lofty towers of glass,
Never meant to satiate,
Only to placate.

Rising up,
They will trample the altars
On which their kindred were slain
And leave the barren marble halls
Of false benevolence
And embrace fertile vistas
Whose soil they will sow.

Austin Stephenson