The Ruins of My Temple

Despite it's condition,
the ruins of my temple,
still sacred,
soul's trappings,
entangled in the brambles,
fixing my position,
grabbing hold,
thorns break the surface,
nuances change my trajectory,
growing out,
pulling in,
dragging down,
underground,
learning to adapt,
contort limbs,
ligature marks burned
across brittle wrists,
earthbound dwelling
crumbles,
fumbles against gravity,
brevity,
as the soul
bears it's body.