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Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Tower

Let them build.
The people
Whose hands searched
Endlessly.
Twining within
The myriad of
Trembling fingers
The weight of stone.
Stacked,
Smoothed,
Shined,
Repeated.
Like this,
It could never topple.
It erected itself,
Days upon days of hands
Connecting stone with its brother,
Becoming automatic
Even in sleep,
Until each breath
Was a wall built,
Steadied,
Risen.
The days,
Were counted by the cracks formed.
Years,
Measured in its height.
Inch by inch,
A decade drew near
And then another.
Before long,
Each foot became
Its own century.
Another section,
Another history,
Another life.

Soon
The tower,
Born by the strain
Of dreaming bodies,
Entangled in the
Weathered vines of time,
Relinquished
The ownership of the world.
And became its own
Life,
Its own death,
Its own sun and sea.

It dreamt of heaven
As the slumber of
Mineral bodies
Near an endless,
Luminous world.
Starlight
Reached;
Washing clean
The fingerprints
Of sculptors,
Slaves,
Teachers,
Students.
It held no memory
Save that of the sky.