I have been here continually for years, my relief, etched onto the dignified, enduring walls, and windows that are the portals of mercy and forgiveness. Each recess of mine the consequence of silent patience and the account of progress & loss. I protested not once, while being devout to my cause. What was shaped is a bright flame called love, and this flicker began with every nail struck into my structure, and pressed through into my walls. I have been obscured in the whitewash of time.
