Architects

Eyes seeing only thrones in the sand
ravenous digging their claws into footprints,
furrows created to plant their crown’s seeds,
never concern those who fall into their ruts.
Pain of bruises suffered from each stumbled step,
drowned out by sounds of praises
sung by single voice who sees only self as sun.

Outside the aura of glory surrounding
the steeple where power is monarch,
sadness is the diet, hunger goes unfed,
because the edifice is a vacuum
sucking life from hearts and souls.

Too limited is the aristocracy’s gaze,
seeing only the mirror painted with the mind,
every pearl gleamed to adorn its spectacle.
So cold grows the spirit silent to suffering
sitting in regal repose devoid of ears,
designing paradise for one,
contemplation’s counselor banished to dungeon.

Mourners over lost identity pass the citadel’
on way to graveyard for the corpses of their diaries,
crying out to impenetrable walls
covering the brain burdened by a diadem,
who measure progress by the jewels collected
regardless of the sacrifice hands viewed as invisible
paid for their blessings.

Questions moaned from closet kept shut,
carried the sobs of neglected,
history bearing the brand marks of erected
upon the bodies it enslaved
with faces always forgotten.