When towers fall
Men once thought wise
Said, “Man’s not destined for the skies.”
Of course, the faithless
Find it odd
That men build monuments to God
But there are some
With strength and will
Who say, “We must build higher still.”
And so, I dedicate this poem
To eighteen souls at Siloam
To those who make our towers stand
To every mason’s heart and hand
And whether building hope or nation
To every kind of dedication
For towers all are tall with meaning
Bell or ivory or leaning
Of steel or faith or stone or wood
We stand as every tower stood
Then, what took centuries to raise
Is gone in minutes, lost in days
Despite how fruitless building seems
We must go on with building dreams
And though they fall like falling flowers
We must continue building towers
