The Tower

Everyone has a tower:

A tower of their gifts

Built up for no regrets.

Inside there lies

Powers bestowed to them

Since their first cry in the darkest hour;

Gold, positions and relations,

Found since the first spark of understanding.

Towers start to grow.

Gifts pile up.

But many still want more.

Their desire all-consuming,

Making and breaking them.

Later in a terrible night,

Their towers become. A. Bit. Too. High!

First a bang known to all,

Gifts topple from the farthest skies

Cascading until all collapse!

All except the content,

Who know a tower too high makes them fall.

"Not the highest. But mine is enough."

They stood still with a respectable height.

A testimony to all fools that overloaded theirs.