Different men constructed us,

Our makers loved us,

But one more than the other—can you tell which?

While I was formed in the deep cracks

Of the earth,

You were born in the sky.

Different homes, and it seems, different destinations;

For where I was meant for heaven

You fell

To my level.

Shall I catch you midway?

But you’re the one with wings, though broken,

And I must rely on

Something else rather than my own will,

I call it faith,

To get me to where I need to be.

It discourages pride, the reason you came

Crashing down

In the first place, but it’s really not your fault

None can resist

Their own destruction, beautiful as it is

(for a while).

Only at the very end does it hit them just how

Good they used to have it—

So tell me,

Does your maker love you best,

Or mine, me?

But no, let’s not pretend like you can’t come from different places

And still see eye to eye, for a moment,

Because the same tragedy that ails you

Was overcome in the other.

Let’s learn?

But first let’s come to terms with

Our origins,

For our homes are temporary, but we know it’s the same god

After all—we just want someone to blame.

So while we’re on our way:

I to the heavens

And you to hell,

Let’s pause at the gates to both and take a look back

At where we started from

And how far we’ve actually come; is it too late?

The roads we’ve paved are connected, and only God

Makes the journey with us,

But we decide the direction, not He, no He simply

Let’s us in if we ask.