Wooden Monuments

We are a people of wooden monuments

Mounted high and built to touch the sky

With gripped fists we curse the why

The sun burns our finger tips

With closed lips we softly sigh

Our mouths now open

full of words we will never be

We pour forth the silence

To pronounce un-objectivity

We pour forth the silence to bring about some dream

That blindly leads us toward nothing

The space that haunts our dreams

The things that built our soul

Become the people we will never be

In an age where to stand

Becomes the only reason we survive

On our knees we accept the consequence

Our mouth now centerpieces for the lies

So naïve

We were born with baggage

Carry luggage for the train

Open up the suitcase

Blank belongings held in vain

We carry them

These philosophies that never sleep

We carry them

The truths we never speak

And we hold them here

So close to our hearts

We hold them here

So from the masses we don’t depart

The art that rests in pieces like shards of glass built like armored vests

We carry the shards of glass

Bleeding wounds inside of our chest

To speak them would ignite the fire

Burn our monument to the ground

The wooden vessel where we trap ourselves

Becoming ashes upon the ground

So in my ashes I sit

Wrestle day and night with it

These words that hold the flame

Piece by piece and bit by bit