Inside my four walls,
Not much is seen.
The same people day after day,
Their actions always precise and clean.
"What's out there?" I wonder,
"Outside of my four walls?"
"Only horrible things," my tenants explain
"It's a place you don't belong."
When my bricks were fresh, this was enough
To help me press wearily along.
"What's out there?" I wonder still,
"Outside of my four walls?"
My curiosity eventually overcame my build.
I needed to experience the outsiders' guild.
My bricks ached, my woodwork choked,
Until finally
clouds birds sun wind lights chatter
These sights and these sounds,
Some beautiful and some not,
Flung debris on the ground
And to my architecture brought
A beautiful hypethral view