The mirror dent, my reflection cracked in several
ways, wallowing in wonder whether mortality is my faith.
My eyes
marry clocks
and drift away
with time, to lands of broken hour glasses.
Where eternity invites the reaper to shape short destinies.
Fears smear
amongst peers,
many phobias
being but one
clear path
death is near.
Life is dear
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
The mirror dent, my reflection cracked in several
ways, wallowing in wonder whether mortality is my faith.
My eyes
marry clocks
and drift away
with time, to lands of broken hour glasses.
Where eternity invites the reaper to shape short destinies.
Fears smear
amongst peers,
many phobias
being but one
clear path
death is near.
Life is dear
