Brick and Mortals

Oh, the things I would say to you

if I could only speak your native tongue.

Late December brings a day to rue,

a song, chill and bitter — whispered, not sung.

Every rung upon that treacherous ladder

threateningly thin and coated in ice,

wind piercing skin like the fangs of an adder

and I, with the misfortune to be bitten twice.

The price to be paid was that frigid climb,

a toll of cold for that warmth through the window.

A view unique, and so, sublime —

outside, looking in, it's still cold as sin, though.

So, when a tune, through frosty glass,

extends a muffled invitation,

into a new world, eager to pass,

a charmed one is then enslaved to sensation.

Great nations have fallen to such small things,

and what lacks wings, once pushed, is doomed.

Caring only for what the stereo sings,

I crawl through the portal, into that room.

Immortal time and space outside

were placed on hold by some strange grace.

"I'd give anything to stay," I sighed,

beside the demon, lying face to face.

For lying, then, was all we knew,

imitations all we'd learned to speak.

"Instead, I'll give you something true,"

the demon said, hand on my cheek.

"When you leave here, you'll be a man,

not for the respite at the top, but the climb.

There's a view no matter where we stand.

I see it now — you will too, in time."

Then, he blew sweet smoke into my eyes

and guided me through murky mist.

I could not see, but felt myself rise,

heard him call out each step I missed.

I smelled woodfires, tasted Winter air,

as he opened the way to the outer world,

and he said, in a voice both coarse and fair,

"Rejoice, for your wings are hereby unfurled."

A sudden shove to the small of my back,

wind rushing upward past my ears.

My sight still gone, unnaturally black,

then, even that nothingness disappeared.

Standing in the alley, looking up six flights,

by the fire escape, I could see the glow.

Radiant warmth and a weird, red light —

had I seen it before? I'd never know.

A ladder there, above my head,

creaking, just within my reach.

Somehow, I knew I'd wind up dead

should I find myself tempted by its speech.

Each time the year fades into this season,

I wonder at what I might have seen.

Curiosity well beyond all reason

is what takes us to places we've never been.