Tower

Standing atop the tower of my solitude, I look down, seeing the events of my life unfold, manifested as many people milling on the street. I stay in this tower to gain a new perspective, yet, of late, I feel that my perspective could be lost, drowned in the metaphysics of looking down from lofty spiritual heights, to see what I may do to end these dark and forboding nights. These nights are filled to the brim with forlorn thoughts, running through the ifs and whats of the every day, yet I know that at this time, I must preside in my tower for protection, descending to the ground floor from time to time, to remain grounded in what I explore. When I am at the ground floor of my towering sanctuary, I can look up to see the shape of what I have constructed for myself, my refuge, my towering sanctum from all trials and tribulations, and I can look at street level at all the milling people that represent my thoughts, getting a clearer perspective of what it is I think from day to day. Copyright © 2021 Robert Matejko