The weekend calm is shattered in a breath,
When Saturday is bruised by steel and stone.
The quiet air is filled with sudden depth,
As metal yields to forces not its own.
The frame that once felt sturdy, swift, and sure,
Is folded now, a memory of the past.
But though the wreckage leaves a heavy lure,
The strength within is built of things that last.
A total loss is written on the page,
A number set against a silver ghost.
Yet as you turn to face a newer stage,
The life preserved is what will matter most.
The road ahead may lead to different shores,
But every rising sun is still yours.