Down it falls.
Every second spent--wasted.
Each speck of respect and trust will collapse...

I proceed to find the process of destruction amazing.
How composure is continuous, strenuous.
But how incredibly expeditious the universe can be in the process of demolition.

But in that split second where you watch it crash,
You relive each moment, reconvene with each partner,
And feel as if your very essence could have been captured through your composition.

It would be a lie if said that possessions are meaningless.
Within what we create is ourselves.
What makes an artist is the ability to take the debris in which hope is lost,

And make it beautiful once more.