Broken Light, Hidden Root
The church still stands, though window cracks—
A war passed through and left its tracks.
Three roses stained by holy flame,
Still cast their light, though not the same.
Through beauty marred, a truth reveals:
The soul’s true shape is what it heals.
A tooth extracted from the deep,
Old wisdom torn in primal sleep.
No loss is loss in timeless view—
What’s pulled away uncovers you.
Beneath the gum, beneath the pain,
A soul unclenched receives its name.
