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The Architect...

I wasn't given the mortar from the Architect.
The tools I have are not sharp enough or accurate enough
to fix what needs to be repaired but I want you to know that if
I had been given the tools of the Architect I would mold you
from the finest clay and measure your worth in diamonds
and fine gems or gold and elements so exotic the periodic
table would not be able to comprehend the composition and maybe
add some stardust and a few sunrays and clothe you in the
most silvery moonlight or give you the light from the first
sunrise after the Architect gave Light and in that light
all wisdom would be at the tips of your lips and all
knowledge at the base of your fingertips but alas I cannot
build the fortress to stop him from hitting you and I cannot
conjure a magical shield to deflect his hands striking you
and I don't have a potent elixir to stop the confusion that
what you are experiencing is love and you accept and you
weather the storm and suffer the violence in silence and
you tell yourself that in the long run this kind of love from a
man is worth it and this kind of violent emotion is passion
and you try to convince me that the scars are only on the outside
and that the hurt is only temporary and I clutch my flimsy toolbox
because I wish I could build that stargate to whisk you to another
place or another realm or another time but in the end I must slowly walk away...
Until you are fed up...and from him...you slowly walk away.

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