The rising tower stretches upwards,


requesting passage

through torrid torrent and drenching deluge.

Solid it stands,

noble, proud;

The pointing turret,

Glistening minaret.

It seeks harbour in the condensation

of humid air,

succour in suffocating atmospheres

of dark, liquid skies.

Vertical, lifted and reaching for heaven


in ascent,

Destined to fall, to rise anew, then fall.

Like Lazarus.





3 thoughts on “Tower

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