The Builder

A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

You with your brick, your mortar, your clay.

You built skyscrapers of knowledge

And temples of stories.

The rest of us gaze at your constructions

As they tower above, hidden in the midst of the mediocre and the macabre.

They are our rivers to the stars

And our caverns to the depths of the earth.

Here on the surface,

We want nothing more than to venture within such genius

And to explore these structures you’ve created

With your hands, your eyes, your mind.

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