A Tower

In order to grow,
I throw a million pages off the roof.
They spiral in the air, they make a cloud.
My words rain down, black ink splattering.

The faces turn to ice, I fall.
Everything I fight against pulls me down.
Every other light is lit, on the street I live.
I could lie here on the pavement forever.

A woman comes, she bears gifts.
One is life, another is strength,
She cares for me when no others would.
I rise to my feet; I see my words, now frozen.

The woman gives me one last gift,
She gives me her compassion.
With this flame I free my words.
I recollect my thoughts, I recollect myself.

She has taught me how to build my towers,
Blades of grass laugh in the wind as I work.
I am constructing something very special.
Her liking will be instilled.

She has taught me so much.
She wove me a radiant scarf with her own hands.
I wear it to keep me warm, I feel her soft fingers.
They caress my face, I can hear her.
“An endless world lies at your feet, make it your own.”

With these words I begin to build my tower.
It is a work in progress, but a beautiful thing will come of it.
I will see the entire world when it is finished.
And when I do, I’ll have her there to hold.