Compass

Every day the world is destroyed and built back up
With wealth in the hands of fewer hands of fewer hands
And I wonder who is let go
When those hands disconnect from other hands
to grab at oil and water and money
And I wonder where they will fall
When all the walls have come crumbling down at night
Will they hit pavement?
or stone?
or will they tumble forever
into the spaces that no one keeps track of...

The world is flat, then round, then dark, then light
In seconds I can step from solid ground into a shadowed abyss
Or scale an intricate web of connection.
I dance with lightening and laugh with spiders.

But when I'm tired of feeling myself scattered
into a million pieces (some saved and some discarded)
I will piece together old maps into binoculars
and find my friends buried under the scrap heap of an empire
and we'll create a giant compass
To navigate another world
where no one is forgotten.