Like the ruins of the urban, the dilapidated walls scorned by its builders.
The cornerstone is no more; it was once majestic.
Not anymore.
Brick by brick, soaked in the scorching bath of sunlight,
it rose to it feet; erected straight and all, proud and infallible.
Temporarily.
Everyone acclaimed it as the pillar of righteousness and truth.
Nobody (dared to) doubt its imperfections.
Hairline crack. The cornerstone endures.
Towering in height and ruling with stature,
the jaded columns of altitude and aired with supremacy.
There was nothing to be done, not anymore.
How could we ask for anything, less or more?
Beneath the faded facade of erected fortitude,
the resonance of a brittle hinge cringing.
Time and tide waits for none, not even death to catch up.
Soon all will wither and from dust into earth we will return.
But not anymore.
If there was any, more to say the least, object to outlive itself,
it was always right in front of us.
Riding the currents of the wind, but not a single moment of fluidity.
Steadfast in its position it was, and nobody saw it.
Not anymore.
The rubble beneath, the paved road and what was left
was not of significance, not anymore.
The cornerstone buried in shame and unwilling to face reality.
Crumbled.
At long last, old and wearied, it gained wisdom.
The cornerstone served its purpose well.
But it will no longer serve that purpose.
Not anymore.
Because some things in life are meant to be broken.
Some things aren't meant to be mended.
Some things are permanent scars, as lessons; memories.
Some things are beyond salvation; only remembrance.
Some things are better of left alone.
Some things once mattered.
Not anymore.
