Talking, or making anything, turns out to be a kind of magic here. The speaker says you can raise the dead and bring your own walls down, and the tone is half dare, half warning. The parenthetical image of towers giving way, tumbling "like the sky runs before a storm," makes that power feel exciting and a little frightening, as if creation and destruction happen in the same breath.
Then the poem turns. Keep talking long enough and you'll "join yr own song," meaning you become part of what you've made. The speaker still says "Dont hesitate," so the advice is to go on, but with care: "watch what youre making." The final line, "How it moves without you," has no full stop and leaves a slightly uneasy feeling. What we create gets away from us and lives on its own. The mood is urgent and energetic, with a thread of awe and unease running through it. The missing apostrophes and the broken title give it a rushed, spoken feel.