48

mountains,
an easy comparision for a human being
the exterior shapped by memories
a mountain is always stern
but a human's will, is easily broken
that of a wooden doll
if you throw it, it breaks it
but we regenerate from shattered and torn
to alive and new, but hardened
but its never hard enough
because the coast will always erode
and we will always gradually let go
and hold onto the impossible
even with proper knowledge
this overcast frigid feeling
will always be familiar.

its a cold snap.
the way our chest's can be broken open
frozen with the ice age
our hearts stopped and brittle
careful to touch, because hearts do shatter

in an art form all its own
regeneration is lending its arm to the human condition
an art we can never let go
as much as the heart wants to pull out
the body pushes in
into love
and torn stories all the same.