Against The Brick

How accustomed
I had once grown
to the sound
of bricks and mortar,
in constant
coming together,
to build a wall of lies
around the ego
to protect,
that I had almost
forgotten,
so far removed
now that I am,
from that familiar
scraping of cement
with the flat
of the trowel
against the brick,
that by grace
did I finally discover,
that it was always
so much better
to live instead
by what the heart,
it wanted.

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