Break the Pot of Gold

Frivolous was I and tender
You’d presume I was puerile
My works couldn’t be undone,
Nothing’s meant infertile.

Some espousal is a gratification.
A glass with glassless frames;
Order of the girders It towers
It is playing just like games.

Rampaging through these burrows
I find not what I had engaged earlier
Only shattered, broken pieces;
This finding brings me clearer.

I found not the dreams I left
As I scour; everywhere is a cavity
Only hallucinogenic impairments
An adrenaline of a calamity…

Of the rubbles, only ashes
Coalesce forming a union
Ultimately It is breakable
You’ve found the core communion.

The search is complete
Though It is pretty obvious
The pieces are not emendable,
They raid with nothing previous.