It is symbolic, his first task
his small hands isolated in a tiny fellowship,
palms following trails of hubris and sunshine,
years behind, few and many waiting beyond this door.
This child will perform for the sake of anyone,
for the sake of windows and the morning,
for the sake of years to come,
for the ones who will remember him with or without a name,
in light or in darkness.
Be it his witness, be it his creator.
So high and lofty—
the tower of a wise saint.
A mystic multiplies, so aware of the truth he builds on.
Present for second chances and stronger foundations.
Everyday the small saints build towers.
The blocks rise and fall.
But we remain ahead of ourselves for what
we know of the beginning.
From what I know of what takes us away
And brings us back.