Chronicles

Wood grain warped by knot in center,

The weakness the flaw

Removed to learn it was the cornerstone.

Extracted and everything starts to crack

Splintering lines rush to furthest border,

Why is it so that we should crumble without scars?

The chronicles of your ventricles

The hallways your blood strolls through

Provide for me an answer.

The best things the strongest things

Are made so by pressure

By a measure of suffering

And persecution,

The flower pressed

Preserved by adversity.

– Vagabond Prophet