When ceilings become floors

When ceilings become floors

They do not crash down as one would be subject to expect

Don’t be so blue

Limits are set by ourselves

That ground that you stand on

You can always push back up from it

The ceiling you stare up at

Is it a star speckled endless sky

Or just the glitter in the popcorn your grandparents found so fashionable?

Are you that bird that leaves an imprint of itself on paned glass?

Or did you aim true for the open air,

Not fooled by magician’s tricks?

We all have our rooms we are confined to

Our lives sprout upwards as living towers

Each landing, a room seen as a moment of our lives

There are no elevators, there are no stairs

Yet you must continue.

Will your once floor rise?

Crashing through what you once thought was your ceiling?

Propelling your own personal scraper, skyward

There is no top floor, no penthouse, no roof

But every so often, a window

And my god what a view.