Placed Under Our Feet

By Andrew R. Duckworth

The world was built for us,
But not us for the world.
Should it have ever been fair,
We would not know
What to do with it.
It is the mountain we must climb-
Reaching the pinnacle, 
We can extend a hand upwards
To a hand reaching down,
Only when the mountain
Has been concurred,
Placed under our feet.

The world is not fair,
Owing us nothing- it never will,
And why should we want it to?
What does the world carry
But extra load to our shoulders?
Extra luggage to be plucked off?
We are all traveling
With our own feet,
Trying to reach that great peak.
But we cannot reach it
By the feet of another.
Nor can we reach it on our own.

What good are feet
Traveling a mountain so steep?
Feet take us so far until
Feet become useless.
Our footprints will show us
Lost and uncertain,
From this path to the next,
Unguided, blind and aimless,
Until we are lifted by wings
To the pinnacle, to the hand
Waiting to pluck us from that
Which we don’t belong.