Feathers

Feather upon feather, weight upon weight.
Seventeen years to gather, almost eighteen to date.
The feathers always fall, and never stop, until,
They’ve served their purpose- to gather, hurt, and kill.
To gather, hurt, and kill? Who would have thought.
That such a preposterous thing could be bought?
Who could ever imagine that so miniscule a thing
Could the greatest of all to its knees one day bring?
A snowflake, so light, so harmless, so fun.
Yet many can form a great wall when building is done.
Many more can town or village destroy,
Yet so many see a snowflake as naught but a toy.
Weight upon weight, feather on feather,
If not stopped will one day bring inhospitable weather.
‘Twill the instrument of destruction for all of us be
-If not halted and overcome- till no more can we see.
A drop of water weighs nothing, almost nothing at all.
But gallons can together break the backs of the tall.
How do those with gallons still stand as they were,
If there is no other support for them that occurs?
There cannot be a building or structure that lasts,
Without a strong base underneath to hold fast.
A tent with one pole will of course one day fall.
Many poles are needed to help it stand tall.
Feather on feather on feather on feather,
Gravity will pack them tightly together.
And so those feathers become heavy as lead,
Till the bearer only wishes one feather be shed.
But what if the bearer wishes to stand alone?
His place not long will he be able to own.
If he stood alone forever, then he is doomed to fall,
For bricks need mortar to become a great wall.