The Wall

It's a strange thing, a wall, and the purposes they serve. Some walls are built to keep things out, while others are there to trap things inside. But the most dangerous of walls are the ones that are built without any purpose in mind at all. Like cracks, cutting through the horizon, or scars ripped across a plain. So one has to wonder - why do we build these walls at all?

I find myself being the victim of a wall. A wall trapping all the hurt and pain of my life inside, a wall keeping anyone who loves me out, and yes, a wall that seems to have lost its purpose altogether. How is it that an inanimate object, such as a wall, can lose its purpose? That something so plain can be so powerful and yet so fragile at the same time. I suppose the worst part of it all is the fact that the architect, designed this wall to be impenetrable. I've tried breaking it down, believe me, but the builders have simply made it out of a material beyond any human invention.

I've heard that water is supposed to be a powerful element against stone. That eventually the rain will wash mountains into the sea, and that the running river carved deep gashes into a valley and proclaimed itself a canyon. They say eventually the great tides of the sea will swallow the might of the land, like Atlantis that sank to the deep trenches of the ocean, into an abyss, never to be seen again. But I've shed rivers and oceans of tears that have crashed against the might of the wall, only to find that the towering stone still remains intact. And now my water has run dry, and I have no more tears to shed. My heart has turned to stone, and I don't know what else to do.

They say that in time the fury of the wind will cause mountains to crumble into the land and eventually wither away, dissolving into dust. They say that mighty gale forces can destroy whole cities, and that the hurricanes of the sea can level high towers reaching for heaven, bringing them right down to the depths of the earth. But I've screamed all my life, and my fury is worn, my voice is breaking and the whispers left behind within me have all grown silent and died. And still...it remains. The great and powerful wall.

Now I have nothing left within me that may even come close to scratching the wall. The wall once built for a purpose long forgotten remains, and my purpose has all but drifted away. For the life of me I do not understand why it was built and why it remains. But this I know, it must come down, and maybe some day - some way I'll bring it down crumbling. I know I can do it. I have to do it. After all...the person who built it...was me.