The Tarnish of New

It starts with a spark, a gleaming light, A promise born of endless night. Unbroken, unscarred, a radiant hue, The world bows down to something new. We cradle it close, our fragile dream, Unaware of cracks beneath the gleam. For all that is pure must face the test, Of hands that shape, of hearts possessed. The builder's pride, the dreamer's fire, Can twist to greed or blind desire. What once was hope, now wears decay, Corrupted by the hands that stay. Yet in the ruin lies a seed, A whisper of what once could lead. For even in the tarnished guise, The dream endures, the light still tries. It asks of us: can we renew, Without the rot that shadows grew? To guard the spark, to hold it true, To cherish the old and birth the new.