~reflection Through Shards~
Prism turned
as another memory refracted
against forgetfulness.
Motes caught in the cross fire
of synapses,
[collateral damage]
and like the sightless,
depression is read
in those delta lines
of arid tributaries,
cascading from salted pools.
Contentment or inevitability
are caught between a sigh,
where tumbleweed disguises
any tracks left behind;
I need no spooks to follow,
all my demons are an audience
watching a monologue mimed,
as my tube of life
tapers.
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