A block of clay sees fully formed statues standing; a finished line.
Tough stances and defined figures full of confidence.
A block of clay cannot see the clumps of forgotten flaws;
scattered around the plinth upon which their heroes pose.
Withered plans, chunks of lost life, shriveled up in the dry heat of time gone by.
If those towering colossi leaned down and lifted those lost slivers…
Would they shed a stony tear?
a perfect piece of crystal nostalgia, regret, shame, or longing?
If the honest light of the all-knowing Sun shined through;
a magnifying glass of the past
Into the newly formed eyes of a simple block of clay.
The clay would stiffen at the sight.
Hearts harden under the tears of their role models.