I call him the architect,
He saw the small town
Within me and built cities.
He saw the lake within me
And created seas. He saw the
Hills within me and built
Mountains that touched the
The sky.

But he didn't see me.

So he left and the world shook
And destroyed the land within.
But I can't even bring myself to
Mourn the world he so sweetly
Crafted. I can't bring myself to hate
That the land I built isn't the same.
As he showed me that the
worlds that last are the ones
We build for ourselves.