Build

Build things where they shouldn't go.

Build a house where it floods,

with a balcony to overlook 

all the roads you have walked

and the street corners you have stalked.

Now submerged under a lens,

consistently altering

the memories you thought were solid

along with people true.

Gazing upon perspectives

you only thought possible in books,

jokes and stories told

now taken by with the wind.

Build a tower where it's sandy,

to feel the way the earth will move

and see how everything seems the same

until you stand where you once stood

and understand should, could, and would.

Build a fort between the mountains,

to foresee all of your plans unraveling down a steep

and wide-eyed, struggling to sleep

hearing the traps coming for your feet.

Build a family on an island,

to learn what lessons you'd forgotten

in a future, now, that has turned rotten

like bruising fruits in a pale

understanding self-made doctrines are unstable.