Albert Ko

On polished floors we step, and pause to gaze
At lofty angels dancing far above.
The walls we pass are gold and rosewood made
To emulate some long forgotten hall.
Among us glide the lofty angels here.
Like us, they seem, but fairer, robed in silk,
And more than that, assurance is their song,
By stride and postured poise and gleaming eyes
A melody the untrained ear may find.
But harp-song we need not. For we see it,
Our own dilapidated cloth and state.
We wander, lost in awe, and with meek breath
We whisper, “This is heaven”- But to them,
All this is naught but home, their known domain.
And as we roam their vast and hallowed realm,
A faintest dream begins to speak to us-
What if, by pain and grit, we strove to be
The mortal gods we feared and worshipped so?
Would we, in time, the sweet ambrosia taste,
And dine, and deem, as those who dwell above?
Our hearts, upon this dream, begin to crave
To lance across the sky among the clouds
And leave behind the squalor of our lives.
The climb begins, and wood and world we hew
With blood-stained tears that drain into ourselves.
And as we lock our gaze upon the stars,
We dare not think of secrets gold may hide,
Or of the bitter anguish should we fall-
Instead we climb, with hunger in our souls,
To dwell and dine as lofty angels might.


Albert Ko is a second year student in Weinberg currently studying Computer Science. He hopes to gain admission to the Creative Writing program next year.