There are layers existing deep
in you,
parts long forgotten,
parts yet to be found,
they call, but you have never known
how to listen.

They can no longer wait.
The Gods make sure of this.

Someone or something will come
and burn you down to nothing.
Burn down your faulty armor.

It will hurt. And it should.

On the other side of this hurt,
who will be there, but the charred seeds
of your soul.

Find them. Only you can replant them.

Only when you have stopped looking for yourself
in the hands and at the feet of shallow statues,
look down to the soil at your own feet, that ground
you walk upon, there,
plant those seeds, and begin again.
Grow stronger.
Grow wiser.
Reborn.