The Tower

So white and bright stands the tower,
standing in radiance, shimmered in showers.
Rain to fall from its heights unlored,
braced with the stronghold of more
men than enumorous to stand before it.
It's fortitude of wisdom and halls contain this
glory in stories peered upon with respect,
fallen knees praise the white lights reflected
off the stain glass so crafted with begetted
hands for the power of this hour.
Thousands of seated columns telling the dyer,
"Take this serene in the eyes,
walk afoot grounds without a sound;
spread your regret upon the planted
sprouts making anchor to grow in their mounds."
But the spells that surround the divine,
repentanced these gracing halls,
reach out from faulting earth in a continent's divide.
Twisting currents of incense,
caught within a glow of purple glimpses,
beckons the meek with a comfort shone
as if collected hands strain a cause known.
Rafters in heights,
stronger in sight,
you wander in close.
Clambered the fight,
towards eclipsed night
as our moon invades most.
Many the intuitive minds
whom clasped the crevice's decline
fallen, men, across the land to only gasp
unto the fields of red and lustrous past.
Flowing beneath the breeze, calming and clear
to strangle the doubt and suffocate the fear,
cherry birthed wood and roots feed to the light
that tempted ever closer the moon of the night.
Saying towards,"Deny me the circumstance
to revel in the delight of this glance,
I await up here in the silence of matter
and distant fades of star's chatter.
I alone know loneliness like these children
whom hold close together in cold dens.
I feel the grip of icy chill and rebel with gravity
to pull in close the tides that long for me.
But despite this fate I see your illumination,
colliding fragments of light from deluding inebriation.
As white and luminous as I am and sparing no second doubt,
you give me peace in this silence I see as serenity from thou."
Twisting our sights to peer unto the might,
between the struggle of default and fright.
Radiating upon the ground, a feeling so near,
we reach out as if never to begin the steer;
Changing the course of this benevolence
begot in our own indulging avalanche.
Moving grass calls out for the hold onto you,
crying for attempt, but a phase, into
creation of the tower so white and bright
that bellows transition for the sight.
They rack the hammers forging strength to hold
our deepest crave to make a giant so bold.
Glass born from hatred's fire to burn and destroy
but possessed by these features delving to conjoin.
Saying towards,"I have been their only known friend
to beckon closer to plunge and singe.
They alone know no purpose as of you.
They know alone and have delicious fruits
of recreation in me to bury the land and savage the wood
to burn to ash and feed my hunger, how delightfully crude!
I've seen you high as if mocking my form,
you think devilry and hatred to scorn.
Don't look upon me as just in your white.
Lofty and prideful in your creation,
I hope you see you are a simple duration.
Duration of pleasantry and peace that I will ravage
in a hellstorm of anger and rage for the savage.
I do not hear you,
I do not fear to
begin myself again.
I only hate you,
I do not fade to
ash and charcoal stains."
Delaying no further purpose to these two
the tower leans, endures through.
The centuries shall pass beneath moonlight
that envelopes the men in serenity's sight.
They desolate with the fire but despite
countless fury of the flame, they unite
the boundless enormities to create
the knowledge and wonder in the day.
Diluting the possession the flame may take
and twisting the currents to save.
So white and bright stands the tower,
standing in radiance, shimmered in showers.