Mirrored past, shattered glass
reflections broken; forever past.
Pieces of thousand
unfounded counting
A distorted truth in the light of the morning.
Tired souls, awaken to the height of early yawning.
Beating hearts with hollow pace
creating little but might spaces.
Stories are told I’m every shard
of dreams that fell, we tried hard.
For in the shards, a truth is found
that healing comes, with hearts unbound.
Beauty remains even in brokenness,
another opportunity for thoughtfulness.
