HOUSE OF STONE
Upon these hours are carved
A testament of longing and labor.
The drumbeat of another day
Travels the shadow path between
Existence and annihilation
Where the difference between being a king
And being a corpse is but a second.
Feeling labors to open many doors
But none care to pass through.
One must follow the glittering parade or be
Delivered unto loneliness.
May what was stolen live anew,
Or does the dust claim all without retribution?
Going through the motions in a game of lies,
Repeating endless hollow litanies,
And finding no heart in a house of stone.