Meaningless Sculpture

A trinket of stone,
Shaped by a hand,
Purchased on impulse,
Not carefully planned.
It sat in the corner,
Just gathering dust,
A symbol of longing,
And misplaced trust.

Voluptuous curves,
Embraced by the eye,
A fleeting connection,
That no one denies.
It whispered of purpose,
But offered me none,
A bleak reminder
Of deeds undone.

Meaningless sculpture,
A flicker of flame,
It stood in the silence,
And called out my name.
A candle to burn,
A truth to deny,
A circle of moments
That passed in a sigh.

The work keeps on calling,
The money will flow,
But meaning escapes me,
With nowhere to go.
A heart worn and broken,
A life swept away,
And yet the sculpture,
Forever will stay.

Meaningless sculpture,
Important in time.
In a meaningless home,
It still speaks in rhyme.
It tells of a whim,
A moment, a lie,
And how something hollow
Can outlive goodbye.