Broken Glass

December 28, 2007
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Moths,
Creatures of the night,
Content in their gentle fluttering,
A blank quest to the light.

Shattered in the blink of an eye,
These little shards of glass,
Chipped, with broken wings,
They die the death of innocence.

Still, light dances on broken glass,
Wings begin to quiver,
Tentative at first,
But soon without fear

Their wings pound the air,
Until the sky is filled with them,
Butterflies of glass,
A swarming snowy flight.





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