The Glass Fragments of Reality: Poetry

I held the moon
in my hands,
felt the stardust
of a millennium
drift through
aching fingers

I pressed its sorrow
to my heart,
shed these tears
of wine and plenty
on threadbare floors
made destitute

And I began to sing
at that moment,
the lilting cadence
of a life denied,
the haunting vision
of feet slashed
on the glass fragments
of reality

And in the moment,
I began to murmur,
in a chant,
in a rhyme
to myself
and to the moon,
that one day I'd
stretch my wings again
to stand beside the sun

Because for so long
I've been a
solitary moth
of moonbeams and tears,
wings heavy with ash,
who has forgotten
how to fly.

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