The Foundation

You who seems so wise Oh, tell me this Is it worth leaving a house half built To sleep beneath a golden crown If every stone above my head Was placed by another hand Oh I have carried these rocks myself Brick by brick and wall by wall My hands have bled into the mortar And my hope has become the foundation But there is a castle that stands beyond the hill Its halls are warm its tables full Its banners dance without the wind And every servant bows with ease Perhaps my roof shall leak Perhaps winter shall find the cracks before I do Perhaps these young walls know nothing of standing They offered me a place within their halls A seat beside their fire Bread already baked and a bed already made And I wondered Do these hands that carried every stone mean so little Do these weary fingers that laid each brick Amount to nothing before older walls Every scar within this foundation has a story Every crooked stone remembers my name Every beam was raised by hope before it was raised by strength Would I become another lord beneath their banners Or merely another guest who never truly belonged So tell me Is it better to inherit a kingdom already standing Or to build one that remembers who built it