With the owls

I figure.
If one person
Can climb a mountain
With a rope
Braided entirely in hope.
I should be able
To walk
With words made of stone
They do not intend
To break your bones.
They intend to be
Soft pillows
Beneath a summer breeze
On a hot night
When the sheets
Become your skin.

You are not dreaming.

I figure
If this balcony which holds me up
Breaks
Due to the weight
Which resides in my temple
(Of doom)
I will fall into
Never land
And never land
Ever again.
I will live as an owl.

And in the mean time-
If one person
Can take flight
With wings
Sewn.

I will keep believing in anything.