The Architect

million pieces

When you found me I was broken

Didn’t know it like I Know It now

Reclaiming all the fallen pieces

Shattered all about

The nicest vase the house did hold

In fractured shards made of gold

Takes So Much More than so much

You know?

So

How does one rebuild with hands

Scattered all about

Fingers here and there, it seems

random knuckle on the ground

Maybe one must start with nothing

To change it all around

Maybe one must start with nothing

To make herself anew

Those broken hands were never mine

So My Nothing shall draw me two

I hated that old vase anyway

And the gold?

They call it Fool’s

 

Trust is a Bitch

Trust is a bitch

Disguised as some Perfect Thing

Trust is a trick

Bound by human weakness

Trust I think is meant to be broken

They tell us so many lies but

Trust is like anything else –

Susceptible to human foibles

And therefore, imperfect

We try

We take steps

But inevitably something breaks

Trust is broken

Perhaps True trust

Real Trust

Is staying with each break

And putting it back together again