Resurrected bits and pieces resist the crumble,

while vices mumble in these halls, leaning

hard against these walls.

And though I’m home,

I feel alone,

listening for answers my heart can’t hold.

These scenes aren’t foreign,

but I am…

not fitting this skin I’m held in;

needing new form and parcel

for this breath of partial

blowing through my frame.

Reaching for fulfilled me,

tripping over empty;

vacant lots where impressions stayed.

Wanting Him to have His way, while

salted sores impose delay;

how can I rinse away these stains

from nature’s stone?

On my own, fighting in faith,

as demolitions swing their fates;

this foundation feels the quake

… something is lost.

But for the cause, I stay awake,

vigilant for watching’s sake; a

lighthouse beaming hopeful refuge

through these eyes.

Unwelcome spies casting shades,

by this prayer eclipses fade;

flailing forms dissipate as dawn comes nigh.

Structure abides for one more ride,

but I confess this space confines

and, with it, time defies me;

pinching corners in the sphere

of my timeless here.

I just want to be –

without then or there or them or he…

free of now’s dichotomy.

Newness in a soul’s rebirth,

dropped face down in yester’s dearth;

how the pressure closes in on will.

And still, I am the pillar rising high,

holding form and sowing life, while

all the holes beneath the worth

keep me tethered to sinking earth.