Caves of Glass

by Joanna

Each movement makes a pathway
Stringing together the memoirs of life
A way scattered with diamonds
And jagged glass
Wounds surfacing at every turn
We were each monsters of our own stories
A memory in the making
Of what is not acceptable
Even through the truth
The moments surface
Eclipsing any joy resting in my bones
The eternity of the loss
Of a vital branch
Stands not to dwell
Seeking the gold to fill the cracks
Making anew the broken vessel
Creating anew the ability
To carry more weight than the very essence
Of existence upon this plateau
A moulding of the soul
Happens
When one runs away
Marking territory and then leaving
The tread of tired tires
Along the tracks of veins worn thin from craving the elixir of life
The movement of future into present brings forth a dream
Of all smiles falling upon all faces
Drawing up the exotic entrancement
Of a dance with the demons that rest deep withing the bones of the dead

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