The view from these towers

Each tower is a different world
Each view different, not the same
Self contained universes
Some of pain, some of joy

Each dweller a different story
Dwarves who sit in impossibly large chairs
Men who feed foxes
Women who are always leaving

The view always changes
Bleak car parks warmed by the sun
Red, red leaves, falling, falling
So much beauty

Dark clouds, biblical rain
Winds scraping leaves from the trees
Arrivals, departures
Always something new

All our lives represented
An entry point of glass and steel
A black closed bag waiting for the lift
All the stages in between

Between the pillars of our lives
These towers hold the ground
Birth and death, joy and pain
Wholeness and brokenness

7/10/2010