Shards
Once you've smashed yourselfto pieces angerno longer has meaning Patterns formout of the fragmentsof the broken self Sleep breaks the mindthat wakefulness finds We are cut from one sceneDropped into another We are non sequitur Everything happens for no reasonExplanation is treason Yet we are whole By some osmosisor cosmic thrombosis Held fast in time's netEach one of us a set of beautiful shards Dazzling patternsthat dance and shift The self and its reflectionin a broken glass at the limits of perception