I Draw An Analogy Poem by Mark Heathcote

When a shrine is built, does it not fall into disarray?
Each has its own, collateral damage does it not?
Its whereabouts are uprooted. Changes its overplay,
It is denigrated by the footfall of so many faces
Each a cynical reminder of the other latter one.
Each reflection stares, unduly back along its elastic
Snap-back principles. All of which are self-eroded.
A lot of self-mutilated multiple disillusionments
Not one you could ecclesiastically count on.
When a grotto is built we all fall prey to its attrition
Like every coffin nail is prone to erosion
I draw an analogy; don't build me a mausoleum,
Don't entomb me in this sepulchre built for the living.