Worlds

It seems as though,
Our entire world,
Is built upon,
A set of building blocks.
With some unknown power,
Deciding to make things difficult,
By removing one of the pieces,
From underneath the unsuspecting victims.
One by one,
Row by row,
Although not all at once,
Over time the missing sections,
Begin to add up,
Until eventually,
Everything that we know and love,
Comes crashing down.
Speeding towards the floor,
At supersonic speeds,
Coming to an abrupt and numbing halt,
At the lowest point,
You can possibly go.
Left there standing,
All alone,
Expected to suddenly find the strength,
From the empty abyss,
To start putting back together,
All the scattered pieces.
Attempting to make everything,
Fit like it did before.
Slowly and steadily,
The tower moves upwards again,
Not fitting quite like it used to,
With many of the puzzle pieces,
Being damaged,
Some even lost forever.
But eventually,
We will build our world back up,
To where it used to be,
Appearing to onlookers,
As though nothing had ever happened.
But you know in the back of your mind,
That all is not well,
That your supportive structure,
And everything holding you up,
Has never been so fragile.
Where the slightest hint of wind,
Or nudge in the wrong direction,
Could send you toppling,
Right back down,
To where you just were.
Again expected,
To pick yourself right back up,
When all you want to do,
Is sit back,
And let the rest of the people,
Pass you by.
But you refuse to give up,
As you start placing the pieces together,
One more time.