The stairway to the clouds

The stairway to the highest clouds, is made of the softest sand
Where upon that hallowed path, in hope we all ascend
The sea beneath the stairway rises, and gets faster each passing day
So each day with fear we climb, and in rest we never lay

Eons ago the great deluge, never stopped nor slowed
But now today we stand alone, not from the square ark’s bow
Where the sea has reached the stairs, mercilessly it so crumbles
As the sand dissolves into salty water, the heathen helplessly tumble
Into the ocean the slow of feet, drown and die as they fall
Where above the rest will climb, and never would hear their call

The stairway to the highest clouds, is ever so fragile,
Yet a promise so divinely enticing, to men it ever beguiles
So scurry thus the people below, without the square ark’s bow
But in despairing grief they would fall, if they ever will know

The stairway to the highest clouds, is fraught with treacherous winds,
The strongest winds of despair and pain, yet so without a hint
The light in body will waver in the air, to be blown away
Yet just to be a trifle heavy, and the stairs of sand give way

No one is nor will ever be, the slightest part capable,
Of ascent up the stairs of sand, by which he is solely culpable
We try unceasingly ever so hard, and in blind expectation
Yet none ever defies nor sees the tragedy, of fateful predestination

The stairway to the clouds