#shatteredvessel
Wǔxíng Category: Earth (土)
3-xx
The red of the roses is a dying hue,
petals wilting in the stagnant kitchen air.
The rhythm of the house is out of sync,
lost between the labor and the cradle's rock.
A timepiece measures out the empty space,
ticking through the silence of the evening meal.
Unspoken words are etched in every wall,
while sleep remains a luxury long forgotten.
Is it the weight of the silence that I feel,
as this shattered vessel carves its line between our hearts?
The echo of the same old war returns to us,
shaking the foundations of the life we built.
We are branches reaching for a separate sun,
ignoring the roots that choke beneath the soil.
The everyday grind has dulled the edge of joy,
leaving only embers where the fire once burned,
as the world presses down upon your weary shoulders.
The winter mist obscures the garden path,
signposts pointing toward the separate woods.
The mundane ritual wears the spirit thin,
a grey erosion of the will to try.
One path leads back to the flicker of the lamp,
the other vanishes into the biting cold.
A lawyer’s option waits within the desk,
a sharp alternative to the slow decay.
I look upon the shards of the evening tonight,
knowing the shattered vessel is no longer worth the doubt.
Is love a constant, or a bloom that fails,
requiring care that we can no longer provide?
The shadows of anxiety cloud the inner eye,
as the ultimate question hangs heavy in the air.
I stand at the fork of a road I did not choose,
wondering if the flame is worth the desperate breath,
or if the bond has finally broken beyond repair.
刘嘉文
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Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 11:39 AM UTC