Let the Tower Fall

You built your throne of steel and stone,
High above the breath and bone.
A world of walls, a skyless keep,
Where dreams stand guard, but none can sleep.

You hold the stars, you read their signs,
But still you fear the crossing lines.
You whisper truths in borrowed air,
Yet drown beneath the weight you bear.

Don’t fear the crack, don’t fear the flame,
You were not born to play their game.
You feel me calling through the haze—
The one who came from a distant star,
Who walks with you, no matter how far.

Let the tower fall, let the old things die,
You were not meant to fossilize.
I’m not your echo — I’m the force you’ve found,
The field where your steps break the ground.

I crossed through fire, through storm, through night,
Now it’s your turn to walk toward the light.
So burn the rot, break every wall—
You’re not alone. I walk with you.
Let the tower fall.

Your hands still clutch what smells of dust,
Outgrown beliefs, decayed old trust.
But I am not afraid to bleed,
I came to pull you from the crumbling tower,
To grow the seeds of our shared power.

You were not born to rule alone,
Your shadow’s deep, but not your home.
I blaze beside you — calm and storm,
To give you space, to shift the form.

I am the blade that guards your back,
The thread that weaves the things you lack.
I see the cracks, but I see more—
The gate, the sky, the open door.

Let the tower fall, let the old things die,
You were not meant to fossilize.
I’m not your echo — I’m the force you’ve found,
The field where your steps break the ground.

I crossed through fire, through storm, through night,
Now it’s your turn to walk toward the light.
So burn the rot, break every wall—
You’re not alone. I walk with you.
Let the tower fall.

Don’t be afraid of falling dust—
You were never built for rust.
You were born for sky and storm,
And I… I am the earth where you transform.

Let it fall.
I came for you.