Using broken nails to build my armor in order to protect myself against anything.

Gathering pieces of 2x4
to survive you.

Rebuilding a shattered tower.

A magic door awaits inside it.

The Magician is behind it, patiently waiting, eternity on its side,

holding secrets of a billion galaxies in its inhuman eyes.

The One residing in All things yet greater than all its parts.

I am reaching my hand through the portal, your golden healing elixir smoothing my broken nails, turning crumble into resurrection.

One eye.
Seeing through everything.

My trench of piles
anticipating more flow,

an ocean of clouds waiting to flood my prepared channel for the
masterpiece  of  Falling Rain.