The charcoal footprints mar the boards
across the rugged floor.
The wise, adored, and agèd face
leans in for but a taste.

With a flavour in mind (too familiar, yet sweet),
the worshipped one tends to his tasks.
From the small, seam-full void,
he unravels small joys
and bestows his own deeds to your wealth.

For the fragmented soul,
there is only one hope;
restoration of claims so outrageous.
Lest you revel and bask
in the brashness you dealt,
your depletion of arms 'comes contagious.