Those unworthy hands …

Radiance

which illuminates

the vacuous ruins

of that

which once stood

tall.

There stands the illusion of wreckage.

That light flowing

through the cracks –

barren caverns where

hope once flowed

to a segue

of purpose.

Restorative notions

running contrary

to stagnation

stumbling down an

embankment

of haunting indignity

so close –

yet so far

while tortuously informed

of

not being able

to touch it –

that oasis of

beauty that

fortifies the confines.

While the unworthy

stand with

their

hands outstretched.

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