Blueprint

I did not know how to pull strength from nothingness,
how to construct endurance from sand and wind.
I only saw the small parts of myself, nuts and bolts,
not the sympathy of beams that make up
a vastness that reaches to starstruck heights and beyond.

And if you had told me to look skyward, to see myself,
I could not have seen with these eyes the glittering tower of my soul.
I would have only seen the fragile links that crumbled at my gaze.

But I am learning every day now.
I am an infant in this mother world who sees magic at every turn.
Unknowingly, I weave courage and resilience from the strands of life
that surround,
steel cables twisted and growing into the cement moorings of me.

And I see you with my new eyes, your Babylon tower,
and our shared foundations - the catwalks and sky bridges
that link us in looming light and stalwart days.
I hold the blueprint now in shaking hands, terrified of losing the map of myself,
not wanting to be blind again.