J.T. Blackmohr

Time wear on the terracotta, it cracks and breaks
Without new clay, only dust and bits of the armor are available to work
He tests and toils, finds a new repair.
Mixing his essence with dust and bits can make malleable metal.
He starts to fill the cracks to maintain the armor using the metal
Years, decades pass
Gold not only fills cracks it replaces armor that failed to protect…
From errant points, comments, whispers
The armor looks and feels grown up, it fits in everywhere and nowhere
The armor is art, shiny, well crafted, and the façade of a warrior.
But inside the he is unsparing with his energy. his efforts. towards patterns and routines
Everyone sees the armor, the movements, the actions, but not the lightless interior.
Cracks & holes forbidden, repairs necessary.
But he is safe.
He achieved the impossible.
Fabled Alchemy.
Something new from what was.
All it cost was the child.