A Tower Was Built...

A tower was built that now is falling.
Supports crashing, momentum growing.
The darting squirrels of crumbles scatter,
Splattered by soon forgotten matters.
The dust cloud rises slowly, slowly,
Billowing out as a dancer's pirouette.
All is naked, for a moment exposed;
Cloaked only in a moment of silence
before the sound defiles our ears.
As the beauty startles before the roar.
A record's hum at the end of the song.

A tower has fallen that once was built
on plasmic mortar and a pestilence
that seized upon a fear so bold
none could escape the story's folds.