I hadn’t really known
How objects could be emotions
But this--this is an emotion like none other.

This is the glass conductor of light
Whose soft rays became symphonies
Singing praise to Iris.

She is the blood-red film
Which cuts through the air alongside
Streams flowing orange and violet
And every color in between.

Like a jouster
She throws shards of rainbows
Through each clouded pane.

Their tranquil beauty is alive
Breathing in the wind
Teaching me that my lungs are a restriction.

That my body is a metronome linked to the time
Which will signal the stop of my ticking heart
And I don’t know how many acts I have left to find my resolution.

And though I cannot figure out
How to even begin to comprehend just what that might be
I know only that I do not want to depart this life
As a mediocre play cut off mid-scene.

I want the chance to write my own ending
So that I can tie off the loose strings of my anxieties to balloons
And let them lift the burden off of my shoulders.

I want them to carry my depression along with it
So when it rejoins natures tear ducts
Which first brought it life,

I can free myself from this prison
Which made the atmosphere look like a gas chamber
Trapped by the ever looming clouds.

I saw more through opaque glass, than I ever saw in myself
And so that stained glass window which showed me perspective
Became a home for my restless thoughts.