Jagged silver glass, broken and shattered.
Dazzling fragments reflect from the floor.
My stunned eyes stare back at me in surprise
Multiplied obsessively in the shards
That lie before my rage like an omen.
I kneel to collect myself. Hesitant,
I begin to sort through the pieces. Hesitant,
I drop them crashing into a bin. Shattered
Fears begin to dissipate. Bright omen.
I continue… making safe the strewn floor,
Where my consciousness lies round me in shards.
Superstitious meanderings surprise
Me. I think of luck, and to my surprise
Find I am not at all feeling hesitant
To continue to harvest these bright shards
Of my fear. For it is rightly, shattered.
I observe the pieces left on the floor.
Some reflect wisdom, and growth…good omens.
I contemplate as I clean. These omens
That seem to speak so plainly do surprise
Me. I stoop to my task, scraping the floor.
Am I empty, or only hesitant?
I lean to collect some more of the shards.
Suddenly an exploding thought shatters
My doldrums, Makes me feel opened. Shatters
My perception. There are many omens…
Always changing, but also surprising
Me with their meanings. I gaze at the shards
I have collected. Upon the cold floor…
There is nothing but empty, hesitant,
Dread. I sweep that up too. Hesitation
Forgotten in the bin. Dread lies shattered
There also. A stark revealing omen.
My soul seems to fly. I cling to the floor.
I glide my palm over the surprisingly
Smooth surface. I find no more mocking shards.
My hesitation, is swept from the floor.
It has been shattered most surprisingly
To unlock the omens among its shards.
