Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Reflections

When I think about it. And I do mean, really think about it. I find that I don't need this broken glass to reflect my own face. Don't need these shadowed memories for me to hide in shade. I've been all I can, and I'll be so much more; you'd hardly see yourself in your damned broken glass I'd left on the floor.

I've got my own, my mirror in hand. And what's glass but only sand?

What's sand but the infinite time? Little pebbles of moments never quantified. Only a fleeting glance of a breaking wave. Washes up to shore then back again.

Mine is the infinity of time. The reflection from the sea. The strength of the crashing waves.

I don't need your facade, your fickle heart.
My footsteps are in the sand, and with it I make art.

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