Jenga

I am building the tallest monument I can 
sitting on my bedroom floor.
Wooden bricks towering over
in a 3 by 3 cube. 

It is my turn now
and I sit on my knees
to push a brick out.
My hands are sweaty
as I jab at the side of one.
I lay it on top,
slump back...

and four rounds later,
a dozen bricks have been displaced. 
The tower is ugly with 
random holes bitten out, 
the whole thing kneeling down. 
I want it to fall, 
like how God might have
when he built the world
in six days, and watched patiently
as it decayed. 
His perfect order being poked at,
until it is a wooden beast: 
He wants it to fall.

Today is the seventh day
and God does not want to watch
anymore.

I poke at the base,
and watch the whole thing shift.
Lose balance. Crumble down.
And we all laugh.

I can imagine Him smiling 
at his architects of destruction
who know no restriction.

Our world crum
   bles, and we cheer.