it's dark as midnight out there,
no lanterns to lead the way.
the clouds feel rough--
no pillows float the breeze today.

we're stuck at a standstill,
halfway to heaven, the stairs keep on rising.
up, up and away--
no time to hesitate, decisions keep expiring.

do we grab the banister?
it seems to be constructed out of lightning.
or do we slide down--
a balancing act ever so frightening.

the troposphere appears to spiral to infinite,
daunting, if not taunting, to say the least.
yet our altitude's increasing--
we must be overcoming that wind of a beast.