There’s scaffolding constructed
to create the facade of our temple,
the establishment of our legend.
Making our hovel, something
elaborate, decorous and protected.

Constructed with words and
stories, and categories,  I am,
I’ve done, in my time, and place, 
to display and disguise as the
case may be… our very selves.

To fit our simple lives into a
legend we may want to read
about, to fit words and time
construct, and memories
we built brick by brick.

If we are lucky, we do not
brick-over windows so we
have light, and air to breathe.
As we try to remember just
what we had hoped to build.