There's this thing,
    A swelling thing.
A feeling, beating. Lifely thing
    ...And...
There's this
     HOLE.
A Gaping, Raging,
Tense and Tender Hole.
  There is filling and seeping
And a mighty repetition
of both.
      There IS life and loss within a pulse.
     There are repairs
and still subtle cracks within the cold stone walls grow.
    They LINGER and GROW.
and grow
and grow
    But there  is no eternal Mason's in this wickedness
INside