In between the layers of

brick and clay,

I have buried and dried my belief

in the divinity of

Honesty.

Someday, these same walls

will build my home,

lock me in to the temptation of

coolness in summer,

warmth in winter,

shelter from the windstorms,

the facility of falsehood.

I will build alters to

the Truth I once believed

and remember with regret

the sincerity of dandelions,

the authenticity of steel bridges,

the veracity of fresh black coffee.

But for now,

until the heat of the day has hardened the mortar and

these things are gone from me forever,

sit here on the porch with me and watch

the sun wake up the sand.