sometimes the soul does not know
when it shatters. strewn about
like glass, existing but not whole.
light still shimmers through each
piece, and the beams are broken,
split into streams of infinite color.
prism
Tag: soul
Breathe
Under the winter sky I stand,
my lungs burn from the frigid air.
Silence is welcome since words fade
quicker than the puffs of breath
measuring my mounting loss.
This ramshackle soul may be built
for eternity, but the finite still
crushes these bones to dust,
freeing the soul to finally fly.
Awaiting the Images 