we are uncoverers of thoughtful thoughtless things
pointed revealers of light and dark and everythings
gatherers, piecemakers and pilers-on of words and glowing ideas
stilted collectors of rain-washed truth left sodden by the road
tinkerers with the bits of brokenness felled by our hammer

what new life has left the lips of these and theirs
each step forward is a fitting stumble up a fitting stairs
we do not create but rather take the monstrous mess
string it all together claiming the status of protagonist
while tripping on our ingenue skirts frantic for praise

will a masterpiece arise from our hackneyed ham-hands
a work that welded, shattered, still can onlooker entrance
what end to the efforts of a blind mob building a mountain
that they might climb to the unseen sights of brighter places
eternal places that do not make the life run ragged down so

will mercy rain rich upon our self-seeking glory-monging head
will fire fall and finish the frenzied God-born and Godless instead