Why do we build up all the good things,
Just to knock them right back down?
Why craft a throne of fragile dreams,
Then cast away the crown?
Why sculpt with care a world of light,
Then drape it in despair?
Why light the flame that warms the night,
Only to leave it bare?
Are we the storm that shakes the bridge,
The tide that swallows sand?
Or is it fear that tips the scales,
Unsteady in our hands?
Perhaps destruction feels like power,
A way to hide the ache.
Or we rebuild because we hope,
Despite each fall — we wake.
For every ruin holds a seed,
Each crumble tells a tale.
And maybe, in this rise and fall,
We learn we’re meant to fail.
To fail, rebuild, and fail again,
Until the truth shines through:
That building up is worth the fall,
For growth ignites anew.
