The Build

I stretch myself like a bridge
between fantasy and reality
with not enough of me on either side.

We are too close to both edges.

I only ever wanted to fight with wooden swords
I plead,
reassuring myself,

I am harmless.

But then I think back
on all the harm I’ve caused
and I am less sure.

If everything we build
is made of glass
how can we hope
to keep the world from
breaking down all around us?

Perhaps if we put away
even our wooden swords
and angry words
and eyes,

we can begin to build with wood and stone
and make a thing more lasting
than dread and fire.


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