Built upon this broken slab

A house was created -- the foundation was cracked.

Adorned with jewels and gold and rats,

The house remains empty, the foundation stays cracked.

For years it’s been open, shutters closed and lights off,

Waiting for someone to notice, to approach, to knock…

Like sirens poised to lure sailors in,

Its beauty is strong, but its venom is dense.

Yet, grief and regret wisp through the walls,

Hidden by plaster as one walks through its halls.

The house is known throughout all the land

Revered as sacred, but rumored as damned.

Rumors of beasts and demons inside…

Rumors to stories and stories to lies…

But what lies above this cracked concrete?

A hearth that’s a glow, but drowning beneath

The squatters who enter for no more than warmth

And the robbers who take the gold and the myrrh…

Once again empty, the house sits alone

Waiting for someone, anyone, to make it a home.