You dwell away from now slumbering in meadows of forgetfulness. Yet it is you I seek. The One bathed in thunder drenched in lightning till you present otherworldly.

Storms rage overhead. Streets flood. Trees bow.

You live away and free from me and wander through to others with feint echoing footprints in your wake.

I walk beaches instead seeking redemption. Odd bits of coloured glass to reconstruct our now-fractured tower. I have enough for a small window through which to maybe spy some of our mosaic history.

Waves crash. Driftwood remains.