Patina

-Patina-
by Keaton Foster


In this
Arena
No one
Is nearer
Closeness
Proximity
Both fantasy
Always
Forever
We
Are alone
In a sea
Of much more
There is nothing
To be found
Lesser still
To be had
No reason
No purpose
Holds any truth
No foundation
Nothing
Built upon less
Our lives
Facing decimation
Eternal obliteration
A form of payment
What has been done
Can never undone
In such a wilderness
We are transfixed
By our fears
Creatures
Outward living
While inward
Continually
We are collapsing
Upon our self
Because of our self
We made the choices
Our hands
Unclean
Our minds
Not free
Our souls
Burdened
Beyond all scope
God is ready
Even if we are not
Home we’ll go
To answer
For what we’ve done
There are some
Just a brave few
Rusted strangers
Dealing with angers
Ones greater
Ones of significance
Those few
They somehow know
They understand
In a world of perfect
Greater are their flaws
Aged
Dented
Stained
Unlike every copy
Something different
Something objected
Patina
Their appearance
And their arrogance
Disheveled
Their existence
Rudimentary at best
They have no faith
They have no fate
They have nothing
But unlike all else
Their nothing
Is far greater
An impossible danger
That they have tamed
A wickedness that they
Embrace as truth
Part of their being
A brick
In their foundation
Built upon them
In this world
Standing quite tall
They are unafraid
They are not concerned
Life for them is a process
A point of existence
Then a finite moment
Of no longer living
There is nothing after
Only in between
Concerns them most
Patina
Different
Are such creatures
Unlike all else
They stand alone
Unafraid
Of the nothing
They have come
To call their home
Their skin and bones
Their truth exposed
For all to see
If they would just look
Beyond the stained, rusted
Aged, disheveled exterior
That hides them away…


Patina
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015.