It’s funny. Your destroyed shrine lays in bits and pieces next to what used to be a garden. The remnants rest on top of the soil like seeds that would create life if they could only penetrate the earth, but now they’re cracked, empty, and dreamless.
It’s funny; watching the shards shake in the wind. They dance to invisible pianos as morning dew settles and there is no one to watch. One day they’ll all be gone.