Our kingdom is a world made of building blocks

Each block carved as another puzzle piece to create our playground utopia

Knocked down

 and built again

into something greater

into something bigger

Walls stacked higher

Floors spread wider

More wooden people to fill the empty spaces

worried that our hands will destroy it if we try to fit them inside

So we fill it with trinkets to forget that we had no use for it to begin with it

Less room for faulty hands to shape it

More room for perfect instruments to burn it

Our mistake

is believing that the only thing a space is good for is filling

that the only way to make beautiful is to add more rooms to make it seem bigger

Our fault

is calling this broken ship-in-a-bottle a palace

Our world was not created for us

we were created for the world

the only space were meant to fill

We are not the kingdom

The world is the kingdom and its only ruler

No more should we try and build a paradise that cannot stay

No more should we fill spaces that don't need to be filled

Our kingdom is a world made of open sky

Our outstretched hands drawing the stars