Lucid Destruction

The seashell tower spired up, up,
spiralling and now backwards crumbling,
down, down,
the endless spiral staircase collapsing
into itself,
folding into window sills and seats
inhabited by Fibonacci dreamers,
those nautilus souls long uncovered
from age-old silt and rocking waves,
long ago, longing now
for destruction in lucid wakes
old, but unearthly new in rebuilding
a world of spirals, up and down,
folding, unfolding
chalky wings unquivering,
steadfast progress, digressing,
trespassing into dreamers’ territory,
long after the stairs fell upwards.