Buidlings...

BUILDINGS

 

THESE MONUMENTAL BUIDLINGS RISE ABOVE ME AND STAND TALL.

THINGS AND PEOPLE JUST KNOCK IT DOWN.

I AM A BUIDLING

REVOLVING DOORS OF CIRCUMSTANCES SWING IN AND OUT.

SWINGING IN AND OUT

OF MY LIFE.

Disks of diamond cracked windows and flooded ceiling awaits every floor. WINDOWS CRACKED burn out like today’s headlines of less is more news. Who leave out the crazy details that would’ve had us wondering where the next is.

 Air too cold, air too hot.

 Elevator stops.

On a busy day, things aren’t working right.

My temple melts down like snow and the sandy ashes begin to blow. Many ways to enter, but I remember making only one.

This is my building.

The keys are taken from the master and placed into some ratchet soul’s hand. Dangling them over the rooftop and dripping drops of evil over the balcony.

What happen to my building?

What happen to my life?

I’ve got twisted janitors who joke and steal the very essence of my soul.

Workers who don’t work.

Hell, toilets that don’t even flush.

Out of order signs decorate my walls.

Cigarettes scented plants

And pot holes surrounding the premises.

But this is my building.

God loves me enough

 To blueprint.

My maker makes things new.

Blueprint the new me

Knocks out the old building.

So that I can see.

And when the dust falls asleep and the dirt stand still.

He’ll be standing there waiting to build me up again

 with a hammer and a gang.

With opening arms and lifted smiles