I built a ladder

in the sky

out of my life.

But there was nowhere to step off.

Who’s ever think I’d end up being what I built?

I thought I’d leave the ladder behind

like footprints that suddenly stop.

The idea being, when I was done,

others could use what I built.

I was about to shut down

“It’s no use!”

when whatever happened next—

the pride I felt in being lost again,

the thought of you,

or the feathery night moth

who, landing in the garage door’s electric eye

miraculously held it up; it was a rung, a life.