The glass

See through the clear substance.
A small piece of glass.
Reflecting upon the life of a dead soul.

You break the glass.
Trying to set free the soul inside.
Yet all you see is pieces of clear glass.

The glass shatters.
Into a million pieces.
One soul takes flight.

See through the shattered mirror.
One piece still alive.
The soul stays.

Copyright 2007 Nyorioko.

Poetry by Nyorioko
Read 386 times
Written on 2007-08-28 at 22:00

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