Feet of Clay
Pierced by shards
Of broken hearts.
Diluted in pools
Of sad salt tears.
Corrugated by stones
Of heavy words.
Filthy in dust
Of acidic memories.

Until... one day...

The shards become rubies
Precious in
Their worth.
The tears become bloodlines
Precious in
Their life.
The words become peaks
Precious in
Their zenith.
The dust become evergreens
Precious in
Their hope.

A mountain has arisen
From the jumbled mound
That were Feet of Clay!
The earth may quake
The wind may roar
The mountain stands
Once Feet of Clay!
Broadly facing the storm
A fortress of stone she is!
Preserved and Honored!
Monumental and Mighty!
Bounty and Beauty!



Still...

Beneath her...

Remain...

Feet of Clay.

the universe shakes me awake with an ache in my chest
and for a moment i think it's just my ribs getting stuck again except
I'm not having trouble breathing
like i sometimes wish

i look in the mirror and know I'm not alone
it's four AM
and not a soul stirs
not even my own
i think that's why my chest hurts

mine's dead
i think
and now the spirit it leaves paints itself gold
stroke by stroke
"FALSEHOODS" i scream in the mirror
"falsehoods" the reflection whispers

and i weep
a broken fragment trying to make itself new and worthy
but what a lie
the lies we tell ourselves
and the lies they tell themselves.
nothing is worthy
but hush, just paint them gold

She regretted making false stories
when lies started becoming true .

Standing alone in the courtyard, there she stands swaying in the humid breeze, a yard in the open she is a humble to fragrant Plumeria trees. Oh how I loved the wind before he took you from me, tell me it was all false and stay awhile is my only plea.
You did a swirl and you twirled in white and yellow, only to turn me into a sad old fellow!

Well I’ve waited for twenty years my love, clinging to your hopeless memory, of how there was a day that came where you couldn’t remember me.

I collected the currency of my failings inserting voices  
into the deluge of my figurine dancing on the precipice
of my tainted visage.

But I was short of necessitates, fraudulent reimbursement
was reincorporated, and I was woven unwept as the distresses
of what I had done wove upon my silhouette.

Blank verses were woven on my pools of sky blue, now vacant
only snow flakes of nothingness fell on my perception.
I was not as before I was whole but concussed in creation.

Interwoven, incomplete essences of me. I wasn't that which
was reflected outwards, all that was now interlaced in an
abomination of false reflections and I paid the ultimate price.