Around my throat pulled the rugged noose,
tighter with every upward movement...
Though beheld I chains of gold as a harness,
inching me along the way up.
I scaled the mountain of my own,
whilst I tread in its vertical labyrinth...
To my back, a mirror follows my every move,
the constant reminder of every falter.
From above comes down an ever flowing stream,
washing clean from me the blood, sweat, and tears.
Such is the waters of life that I chose to follow,
as the overflow my thirst and tired limbs.
At my feet, the heat of a million fires,
giving rise to the sulfuric smell of Rock Bottom...
Where from and down the rugged noose yanks.
Burning to a cinder, my forest once dark.
The rope tugs with a playful tease
and with my every breath do I hear the laughing pullers...
Still do I carry on, seemingly towards hopelessness,
where Death is all that my eyes can see.
The chains are what nudge me on,
carrying me upon all paths which lead me Home.
Assisting my ascension, onward to my awaiting peace,
away from the brimstone below, that merely awaits my failure.
By thorn & thistle, from dust was I made,
by stone do ever tread in servitude's name.
The playful pull from below may tighten its hold on,
But the chains will bring me to Resurrection.
I will take on this struggle, as my Lord did before me,
To reach up to the peak of my given challenge,
Above and beyond my inherent inferno.
As God as my witness, my spirit shall never perish.