Is it a castle we‘re building?
I remember reading about her interior
Walls lined with priceless pieces unyielding
To nothing and no-one is she inferior

Fit for a god, she’s full of profundities, wonders  and charms
More images, rituals and beauty than time allows us to know
Still we stop, floors meet knees, chests meet arms
Beyond her walls, few builders remember to go

The freshly faithful rush in to Truths unguarded,
For the old, only blocking the exits is rewarded

Once her towers are built high,
we might see all Creation from inside,

Words, winds and wars, with our lens Christened
Is it a castle we’re building, or a prison?