Good afternoon, 
good evening, 
and good night. 
Crackles and clashes 
of clean-cut steel
lit by the sun and the neon lights
as the days cycle through months

I only mean to ask,
O castle in the sky,
How does life taste,     
In your height and glory
Basking in the sun,
among the clouds?

A grinning dance of neon, 
Wind and clouds whistling upon the edges.
What makes you think I am?

An amalgamated five-fingers 
of metal and concrete
waving toward the crumbling
low-rise buildings.

The immaculately welded, 
unyielding steel gestures to
the old, decaying brick-and-mortar, 
covered in refuse and moss. 

For sheer moments, time freezes
admiring the stark difference
through young human eyes, 
the ancient, almost 
castle-like squats, 
and the smooth, 
impenetrable steel 
serving the same purpose- 
both shelter, 
housing, 
coverage for our heads,
despite their separations. 

Those will never fall.
Wear, tear, but not topple.
Strong enough that a wind or quake
had they ever stepped foot in this land
and my twigs would snap no more like leaves in the wind. 

The cords of cable and wire 
knot in crossed arms.

And you think to call me strong, 
A slight creak in the bending steel.

A flash of ballpoint on 
the page.

Thank you.