Beyond transcendence

It is I, who picked up the broken pieces,
shredded across for the audience.
While the world merry, didn’t gauge the blank pages,
I made do with what remained.

It is I, who looked across the shattered soul,
scattered across for the lying depths.
While the fools oblivious, to see the hollowness in the eyes,
I savored what lay ahead.

It is I, who rose from the ashes which lay on the ground,
blown away into tiny fractions of nothing.
While the men heartless, who looked away from words which were not heard,
I sculpted the path with flowers and hay.

It is I, who treaded those dark waters,
gurgling spewing tasteless rust into the mouth.
While the crowd cheering, no thoughts to the birds that were preyed,
I cleansed the polluted artificial air.

It is I, who broke open the latches,
clinging clanking bloodying my fingers.
While the humanity rejoiced, made stray what once was theirs,
I launched the forgotten key out of tears and will.

It is I, oh, It is I,
ascending from the stained conduit of psyche.
Walking across this terrain with pride in my stance,
for I made a bloom out of a wish which had all but vaporized.