Missing Rungs

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads. - Thoreau

Zeppelin has a stairway.

Santa a sleigh.

As Heaven drips.

Faith stumbles and trips.

A confession is torn and ripped.

I can't get the thread through the needle's eye.

Don't ask why.

You'll just get another lie.

Maybe the crumbs of life's hard-luck pie.

As I reach and deny.

Feet are unsteady.

Soul is ready.

Angel's come and go.

What is it that they know?

I can't get the thread through the needle's eye.

Perhaps I'm not the right guy.

I'll never know why.

Until the day I die.

Even the camel with its heinous hump seems to fit.

But not from where I sit.

I can't get the thread through the needle's eye.

Too many missing rungs.

Trying to breathe truth with collapsed lungs.

It's hard to travel with a full bladder.

Let alone climb Jacob's ladder.

And just my luck ...

... I had to get stuck ...

Author's Note

"We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on earth and forgotten heaven." - Thoreau