We place them high on marble thrones
Their names in gold, their faults unseen
We craft them bright; we paint them clean
Ignoring all their flesh and bones
From distant heights, they seem divine
Their flaws erased by praise and gleam
We feed ourselves the perfect dream
And drink illusion like it’s wine
But when we stand before their face
And hear their voice without disguise
We find no gods behind their eyes
Just weary hearts and mortal grace
The shine is dulled, the mask is gone
We see the cracks, the hidden cost
And mourn the innocence we’ve lost
As day reveals the gilded dawn
Yet still they walked where we aspire
Though flawed, they dared the heights we crave
Not saints, but souls who still were brave
And lit our dreams with borrowed fire!
04-07-2025
© F Aparici