A way back to the land of the giants

I walk down the streets where I once used to play,

But the castles are smaller, their crowns worn away.

The hill I once climbed is a shadow, not tall,

I can’t find the giants, I can’t hear their call.

I’m hunting my way back to the land of the giants,

Where the doors were so wide and the world felt defiant.

Where the trees held the sky and the shadows ran deep,

And wonder was something too heavy to keep.

I follow the path to the old schoolyard gates,

But the fences are low, and the silence just waits.

The swing barely creaks, though it once touched the clouds,

I’m searching for echoes in vanishing crowds.

I’m hunting my way back to the land of the giants,

Where the roads were like rivers, untamed and reliant.

Where the nights held their secrets, the mornings their fire,

And the world was a kingdom of endless desire.

I’ve outgrown the places, but not what they meant,

The giants still whisper, though their voices are spent.

Through memory’s window, I see them again,

Calling me home to the world where I began.

I’m hunting my way back to the land of the giants,

Through the cracks in the years and the silence defiant.

If I follow the laughter, if I follow the light,

I might find the giants still waiting tonight.

So I’ll keep on searching, through shadows and signs,

For the road that returns me to where giants climb.

For though time has grown smaller, the truth still survives,

The giants are here if I keep them alive.

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