Architecture of Soul

I am building
a house. Not
the one I live in
but the one I've seen
furnished in my dreams.

A child's room.
A stranger staring
out the window. A hammer,
nails, a leveler. Calloused
hands, weathered heart.

This will be
the house I die in.
Its door unlocked,
the handle worn & broken.
Someone on the balcony

but no one home.

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