Climbing tot the top

 

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To the top. Photographic: DWV

Climbing to the top

.

Blocks of happenings

slowly descend

and settle upon each other,

building a building

in which I reside,

in which I have resided

since that momentous event

when my umbilical cord was cut

and I had to gasp in raw, burning oxygen

into my tender lungs.

.

It hasn’t stopped since:

blocks being lowered in a way I don’t understand –

sometimes slowly, haphazardly, sometimes

seemingly carelessly, sometimes seemingly hastily,

carefully, intentionally, threateningly, soothingly.

.

From day to day

I ascend my spiral staircase,

talking to myself,

talking to other people through the windows.

Usually I can’t make myself understood

very well,

and I seldom understand

what people mean to mean.

.

Why blocks?

Why not oblongs, or spheres?

.

Perhaps life needs the strict lines,

the implacable angles of cubes,

the uncompromising flat surfaces

that inexorably fit on top of each other,

never to change.

.

The blocks keep coming down;

I will not stop climbing

my winding steps,

not until I’ve reached the roof.

About kruger01

Poet, author, translator Grandfather of five. Bonsai grower.
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