The Light

The light breaks

shattered;

it

s

    c

a

t

t

e

r

s

itself like scared moths

bursts apart in dandelion flight

this light

e  x  p  a  n  d  s

in open hands

we hold naught but its imprint;

upturned palms a resting place for spectrum spectrals

We are chasing light

as it bre
aks…

on all of our sharp edges

let it recreate

everything

We are chasing fractured light,

and it changes us.

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