Introspective Mornings
How long will I stand
with this hand
thrust through shattered ribs,
fingers curled 'round a
desperate
beating
heart
My heart
How long am I willing
to bleed and die in silence,
in my self-made darkness
before I find some scrap of courage
large enough to
cry out
to tear myself open in
the late watches of the night
the Angels' hour
before the arms that never refuse to hold
the shattered glass of an empty soul.
The is no beauty in a man
closed inside himself
but there is in a broken one
and there is poetry in the tears I long to shed.
with this hand
thrust through shattered ribs,
fingers curled 'round a
desperate
beating
heart
My heart
How long am I willing
to bleed and die in silence,
in my self-made darkness
before I find some scrap of courage
large enough to
cry out
to tear myself open in
the late watches of the night
the Angels' hour
before the arms that never refuse to hold
the shattered glass of an empty soul.
The is no beauty in a man
closed inside himself
but there is in a broken one
and there is poetry in the tears I long to shed.
posted by Benzoid the Destroyer at 9:26 AM
4 Comments:
there is beauty in the shattered glass
see how the sunlight bounces off the edges
throwing prisms through the air?
there is beauty in the surrendering clay
that yields as it is re-shaped
into something more noble
there is beauty in the voice of a child
who runs to the father
crying, "i want to be like you!"
there are some things you must read slowly, word by word, like scripture.. and breathe deeply..
Ben thats amazing.
Thanks so much, all of you. I mean that.
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