The walls that house us are like a starlit night
In dreams where we fly to a moon.
Each floating, white segment, a beacon;
To which we anchor in these waters which churn
And churn and churn.
The walls that house us stand tight lipped
And wise to our ever-bowing needs.
Each stacked, red fragment, a reason;
To believe we can build, accumulate to something
And many things besides.
The walls that surround us are unshaken.