Monday, April 02, 2007

A piece

Gazing upon
A broken mirror
Tells a truth
That we are fragmented
And it is not
The mirror
We fear to break

4 comments:

Chris said...

Conflagratulations.

Towering infernos.
The flames lick,
He moistens his lips in the dry, desert air.

A flicker,
He is drawn to a spot
Within flame.
Beyond red, through yellow.
A speck of black, and inside: blue.

Mesmerised,
He wipes the sweat from his brow.
The back of his hand.

The room recedes.
Clammy, sticky; growing ice cold as the breeze rakes across him.
He is aware...
Everyone is watching him.

So he blows them out.
All 39.

Jay said...

A broken mirror is probably truer than an intact one.

Pod said...

too true wise old inc.
the colour photo is up over at mine
;0)

etain_lavena said...

i have a great pic, of these nice girl but in the morror she is so ugly.....I wanna show you in....just send me test email, please....my stupid inbox is crazy...then Ill show you...I love that pic...:)