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Aug 2017
Broken glass in various forms washes up on ocean shores.
Edges smoothed by the violence of salt.
The water was never meant to be home.
Again, they find themselves in unfamiliar territory.

As I stand over green, blue, and brown pieces, the sun breaks through.
Gathering warmth, they shine in the winter air.
Here, before me is a metaphor for my life.

I am broken glass in various forms.
Made of varying shapes and types, I have found myself on unfamiliar shores.
Beached for a while then taken into the grips of the vast, I return again to where it all started.

Now, people comment on how out of place I am.
In the same breath, they compliment my beauty.
We are products of our environments.
Time moves us into new directions and places.
When uncomfortable, we shine.

Looking up from the glass, I feel a calm come over me.
Epiphanies come to me in the strangest places.
Nathan Box
Written by
Nathan Box  34/M/North Hollywood
(34/M/North Hollywood)   
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