The face of pain becomes well known,
Creases crossed in features once smooth,
Past the vagaries and trials of aging, ingrained
As if by the elements, wind scoring old desert
Rocks on badland landscapes, stacks tottering.
Similarities described, set together in dire wear,
Drive of storm and song in sighing winds,
Stones scattered by words from a divine mouth,
Heavenward stories failing and hard engraved
Upon the faces that stare, hollow eyed, in this land.