A Contemplation

Stairs are sturdy. They are strong, meant to support us on our journey upward, or ease us down to wherever we are headed. We step all over them, barely recognizing that they are there until we grow weary or tired of walking up, and at that point we might just start to complain.

The stairs in front of me are not long, only nine of them in fact. They are created out of cement, with scratches and bumps from previous encounters. The contrast from the bottom to the top is immensely different. Down here, it’s so dark and eerie, almost like isolation from everything good. While up there, I can see the sky and the sun’s light is shining upon it.

I want to go up there, to see what the rest of the world sees through ungrateful eyes at what they have. But I’m afraid. I’m frightened to see myself out of the darkness, to let others see what I am. Most would call me a hideous beast, which is understandable, because I am one. I am of no benefit to this world, yet I don’t have the strength to end my journey on it prematurely.

Crouching down, I’m still in the shadows and I plan to keep it that way. For now at least. Maybe someday I’ll venture out, though never with the sun on my back. We are at odds with each other that we’ll never be able to find a solution to. As the humans bask in its glorious light, I am here, hidden until the night falls where I might just be company to the moon and stars.

Inching away from the stairs, an idea begins to form in my head of adventuring out of this murky, remote tunnel. It wouldn’t be too hard, I would just have to remain out of sight and that’s my territory, especially with the blanket of night. A small smile creeps upon my face, an expression I haven’t experienced in a while. Now I have something to consume the blankness of my thoughts, something to focus on, and something to give me the purpose that I’ve longed for.

Thank you, sturdy stairs, for your simple contribution of inspiring contemplation.