Imagine the treading, evenness, and persistence of an object, rising only 7.5 to 8.25 inches in height time after time. Its only destination, toward the sky, ending higher up than before, past the heavens and past the only atmosphere it has ever been in. Beams guiding the way, preventing a collapse. The enclosure squeezing all sixteen evenly spread path stones. A light, showing the end of the trek. Reaching toward the top, failing to land the step, and flailing all the way back down only to try again. Gathering the belongings again, carefully stacking them with the hands of a strategist. Once up, only to go down again. Knowing but not yet why, that there will be another reason to go back up. Working hard to list the necessary items and always forgetting one… Once up, welcomed by the new very slight trickle of sweat that has been gifted to you. Finding the fresh air, after opening the latch. Standing tall, maybe even miles above the ground, knowing it would only feel that high if you fell down. Watching the birds flutter by, singing their only song of communication. The bees up in their hive, making sweet sugar for the world to consume. Not knowing what happened to their last home or their queen. The trees swiftly moving in out out of line, bending and bracing with the howling wind of the upcomming but rising storm. Just watching from above, finding all of the peace between the storms. About to go back to getting the things you came up for. Looking out one more time as the storm begins to open up very close to the secret garden door that’s held shut but now opened by the latch. Then remembering to shut the latch, as you gather the things you came for, then being summoned back by finally walking back down to the ground. Feeling like the heavens have welcomed you back down, you choose your path. Left or right, one choice to serve the directions of the hall. All just to come back up the stairs.