Carve yourself a statue, love,

of pure, exquisite laughter,

fine finesse and solid make,

out of the residue of mountains

having crumbled, toppled over by the years

of hard indifference

leaving only in their wake

dead, bludgeoned things.

Extricate your story

out of their ancient bodies, tell it

with flame

to torch with zeal

the material of change:

yourself, emaciated,

from the heap of utter rubbish

that remains.

Conjure an offering

from within, and gradually,

by the step, the day,

you shall see real change.