As I stand over the ruin, the deepest dark, swallowing black,
Hope is at the mercy of a terrible minds acts.

Torn dreams in scared memories with such a devastating array,
An inner darkness so pure, ripping the guts of black holes away.

With an anger that burns like the center of the earth, so hot,
Waiting to spill out to melt your sweetest, hopeful thoughts.

The heart bleeds void in the darkened soul, your irresistible hatred of my iridescent glow,
The unstoppable will that impedes blood, so cold, with icy fingers that drain your soul, slow.

Your ultimate despair is my inevitable strength, I exuberantly feed on your passionate fear,
If you would only entertain a certain parley with me, I have a seductive secret my dear.

If not for formality, you would have already been devoured, but you're the delicate flower,
So crystal and pristine, I wait to bath inside your light, only increasing my power.

Over places deep within you, so beckoning to my dark, where I hold time,
You may have peace in the day....but in the night...your *** is mine!

Scattered bits of cloth, scraps, and remnants
Some new, others stained, tattered, faded, forgotten
Small and expansive, of cheap thread and the finest silks, colors of the soul
Heaped by turmoil, chaos by circumstance, abandoned by change.
Yet all precious and pure

The story behind, the memory within
The purpose, the character, the comfort, the terror
Wanting order, remembrance, inclusion, reason
Searching for meaning.

The Maker prepares the frame.  The backing is laid. Batting for comfort.
Expertly sown together with the finest threads.
Threads of love.  Threads of strength.  Threads of hope.  Threads of forgiveness.
Each piece a hand on is needed.  Each piece trusted to hold the next.

Working in harmony yet identity preserved.  Purpose.
The Maker builds and the edges grow.
More pieces found behind closed doors.  The dark areas reveal their treasures.
All have a home.  All are part.  All are welcome.
Together a cherished masterpiece.