Mirrors taunt; gasping reflections gape upon unclouded days.
Cracks crease the bevel; silence consumes the refractory maze.
No one understands; least not those left to a martyrs dream.
Children cry for what was; penitence thus endured; worth unredeemed.
Jackals gather in their sinewy packs searching the remains of the past.
Their howls screech hauntingly across the deserts of our lost dreams.
Reminders, oh garish reminders that nothing built upon this land should last.
Constant are these memories; evermore a heart torn asunder at the seams.
Yet it is a new day now; the silence still surrounds, and oh the battle is so long.
It is by only God and His secret butterflies that I in my weakness stay strong.
Therefore seek those things which right in the eyes of God and that are pure.
For temporal are the winds of this life to whit each breath is daily assured.
J. Allen Wilson © 1/29/2009