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.
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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