A Menagerie of Thoughts

image

It was the hour of glass,
where
everything
looks translucent
and beautiful
before it
                      breaks.
Your
       words         hang
before you
               like a menagerie,
    little glass birds of thought
Suspended
       before they s h a  t t e  r
like so many
fragile things.

These shards
           will scatter
    in the wind
                            to worlds
beyond our
        tiny copse
                 in the universe,
little slivers
     of ourselves
to break flesh,
wound,
and heal.

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