A poem I wrote on BT - Called The Chief
Your cracks have been filled by the fears of the fearless.
High above the valley floor the mighty hang.
Some quietly contemplate, some loudly cry out for strength;
some shed tears, but through it all they push onward and upward.
You feel their needs through the placement of fingertips.
Strength exudes through the placement of feet.
Sweat pours on your face.
Hearts race, you feel the pounding on your steadfast granite.
They are a selfish lot; they look to be shaped, they turn to you for clarity.
How do you share your story? When do you get to be heard?
The day begins to close, Your voice prepares to boom.
Your counsel is strong, You long to be honored.
You speak through awesome splendor; you speak through a ring of gold.
Your peace has been spoken, Your tranquility has returned.