It stands like a pillar in the middle of chaos.
Its top touches the sky, its lantern shines, showing the way to the lost.
It stood firm in storms for centuries, while wars raged around it, languages blended, and worlds collapsed.
But its walls have cracked.
The ladders leaning against it, the stairs worn by countless feet, the names carved into its stone — all have left their marks.
The weight it has carried since the beginning slowly crumbles its rocks.
The burden of millennia presses on it — and still it shows the way to those seeking their return home.
It does not shine for itself, but for the world.
It guards an order beyond time.
Where is the one who doesn’t only want to use it, but wants to understand it?
Who doesn’t want to leave their own mark, but would place the injured stones back, strengthen the walls, and fill the cold stone shell with colour?
Who would take off their precious shirt to stop the rain flowing in through the cracks?
Where are those who don’t just want the light, but would light lanterns above — so the world won’t keep colliding in Babylonian confusion?
How long can the Tower hold itself alone?
Where is the one who doesn’t only seek shelter by its walls, but honours the spirit of ancient legends living inside it?
Because now the stones are falling.
Now the structure is weakening.
And if it collapses, nothing will remain but dust and rubble.
And with it vanishes the magic that it made visible to the world — the hope it offered to hearts longing for the distance.
The Tower still stands. But its life is fragile.
What future will we have if it falls — if the light goes out, or if everything is swallowed by flame?
Come. The world(light) is in your hands.
With infinite love,
Ildikó Dajbukát
Spirit touch healing
