Show me the bricks

[Frenchie]

Foreword: I think this text originates from a frustration I have with a past employer, who is very disorganized and inefficient. This text has, to me, a resonating energy which hides the requirement to pay attention to choices of syntax, rhythm, etc. Also I composed it today, hence I did not wait to reflect on it before posting (a grave error, I suppose). In other words, you may, and I may later, see this text as worthy of the bin. But something nags me, that this actually echoes what we often silently feel about so many situations.


So you want to build a house?
Don't tell me about the houses next door
How yours will be bigger
Don't tell me you have the best team in town
Don't tell me what you will do with the house,
How you will paint it,
Or how many windows you want
Don't tell me about future parties
Don't show me your early drawings
Don't tell me that you need a house because you need a house
Don't show me furniture
Don't tell me it will be safe
No
Show me the bricks,
or stones or mud or wood.
Show me the man mixing concrete or sand,
and tell me why foundations are slanted
Teach me about issues and the pain
And the mistakes you made
Show me your first wall,
and how it stands against everything
Don't tell me you're stuck
Show me options A, B and C,
Tell me about the roof and I will see your impatience,
your energy and your attempts,
I can see the story
Show me that you're real,
that the house won't be just a dream.