Someone told me my home burnt to the ground
All that was left was fine gray ash
I see it and I don’t believe it
A tiny neat pile of future and past

The house where I live still stands
Just as it was, the house still stands

I feel the ashes soft through my fingers
I rub some into my skin
I try to build something from them
And they fall, useless, once again

My house, it stands, as though nothing had changed
It stands behind me, as though nothing had changed

The fire raged around me, through me, left me to wonder
Left me to wonder, what should I see
I can’t see past where my home used to be
My house, it still stands, and never calls out to me

I’m a builder of things and I have no tools
I’m a dreamer of dreams with fitful, restless sleep
I’m a dancer who dances around the bright fire
I stare at the ashes, my home, incomplete.