Liquid Glass

I cannot see the light as I stare into the night. I stretch out my hand and rest it on a prayer. It flutters beneath the failing strength of my belief. Bottled hope is sold within buildings of sand and stone. Beacons of guidance that shine with splendor… blinding the very ones that approach on bended knee. Look up fool and see the god you kneel before.

I ignore the praise that is freely given. It clatters upon the cobbled courtyard and bounces oddly like fool’s gold. Value washes away with the tide, I lament the need for sorrow at its passing. Still, I care not.

Each morning I see you. We look deeply into each other’s eyes… the same damn eyes. We struggle, we accept, and we struggle again. The intensity of our bond causes the glass to melt. It forms small puddles upon the floor that reflect different images of my inner struggle. I stomp on them, but with each victory I am rewarded with more awareness of my failure. I weep my soul from my eyes. It falls like liquid glass even as it struggles to keep a single fingertip upon my queevering eyelash.

I blink and another dream dies without a sound.


29 thoughts on “Liquid Glass

  1. OM,

    I’m going to make a preliminary assessment and suggest that you are absolutely at your best as a writer with your prose. This opinion is buttressed by the comments I have observed here over the past few months.

    Deep, profound, beautiful.


    • I appreciate that Nav and I hope to one day write something longer in this style. The issue I have always had is whether or not others will “get” what I am writing or even appreciate it. It may be one of those books I write that never gets a single sell, but we will see. I do have a urge to write something longer and just to see where it goes. What do you think? It can be hard to keep it “connected.” Takes a lot of effort.


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