Babel

We built the tower

To hear the secrets of God.

Though, if asked, we couldn’t have said so.

Our land was silent dreams.

Just away from darkness, we traveled,

Following traces of sun like a flower.

And we were real, like steel or magic,

Stealing through twilight’s symphony,

Building stone stairs and rising on language wings.

We were thieves, standing in the shadows,

Measuring the darkled hours in heartbeats

While inside prayers crashed against the walls.

Never wanting a gift of what could be taken,

We hungered and skulked, seeking the power of rebellion.

All of our land was the spoken word.

Every stone minded, Life swirling in the dust.

From this we rose,

Seekers of horizons,

Never dreaming of the consequences of thought and mortar.