Blindly Climbing

How real the delusion of success.
How deceptive the climb.
How blindly we climb.

No more luck
than pinning the tail
on the donkey,
but we line up,
take our place in the queue,
blindfold secure,
wait our turn,
or cut through line.

The rungs…

Ah, the gamble to win,
the reaching up,
grabbing the next surprise.

Will it be coated in sandpaper?
The climb always starts with just a bit of discomfort.
We pause…

Someone passes us,
like a rat in a race,
opting to be the first to get the cheese,
or the first to be thrown off.

Oops…

Just a heavy wind gust falling past me,
the screech of failure echoing down
where the crowd below
cheers for more to fall,
get pushed off,
or become hopelessly entangled
on the surprise rungs of razor wire.

Greed’s spectator sport
will always remain alive and well


So many above struggle,
afraid but willing to fail,
grunting,
swearing,
praying,
whatever the mode of enablement,
to be atop the ladder.

The groundswell of cheers, boos, cursing,
help those who can only watch
remain content with their bloodlust-jealousy and envy.

From above…

Shouts of resentment reveals the ladder’s disappearance,
the tempest clouds daring the blind ascendance
to continue reaching beyond what can be had.

Another falls.

Plunging from the gray veiled rungs,
the scream, followed by another, and another…

Like a coliseum frenzy at a gladiator battle,
the crowd chants plaudits,
convincing themselves of the
prestige,
riches,
luxury,
honor,
power,
they too are entitled too,
they cast
rocks,
bottles,
sticks,
and bricks
at the survivors clinging
with callous palms,
dripping blood,
anguished tears,
all for…

In the aftermath…

Some might be asking
if this kind of climbing is worth the darkness
that inevitably visits many.

All the while…

The next crowd of wannabes
muster their tenuous courage
for their shot at blindly climbing.

And the reward is what?