There comes a moment
when even the strongest frame
begins to confess.
After enough pressure,
enough hidden fractures,
the beams begin to bow,
the foundation shifts —
first slightly,
then all at once.
You can brace the walls,
patch what shows,
paint over the cracks
and call it repaired.
Or you can strike the match.
Let the smoke tell the truth.
Let the old structure fall
into what it always was —
crooked timber,
misplaced nails,
a house that could never hold.
Clear the ash.
Return to the place it first broke.
Lay new ground
where the fault began.
It is slower work.
It is harder work.
But when the storms return
and the wind leans hard
against the walls,
you do not brace for collapse.
You stand —
the one who struck the match.
