I knew a man who knew how to tear down walls
He was no patriot but he saw the fall of the Berlin Wall.
He told me that to build is an art,
But the hand that lays down the bricks
Should be ready to tear down the walls
When they serve geopolitics.

I listened to a heretic who preached that
Social boundaries limit movement,
Only when one hesitates to toe the line
And break out of confinement.

I stood with a revolutionary who picketed
White picket fences and  manicured lawns,
Watching from a concrete sidewalk,
Where grass learned to sprout between cement cracks.

I traveled with a wanderer
And searched for the North star in the dark,
Until I learned my footprints,
Like the constellations in the night.