How lovely

Cold and immutable
The glass glints and
Does not yield to the harshness of light
Any light
It simply bends it and reflects it
Into the eyes of its dazzled observers

Transparent yet undecipherable
The curving and dipping silhouette of the glass figurine
Adds a lovely mystique to its clarity

But I
I find it more beautiful
When it shatters
Into innumerable shards

Maybe you’ve realized
Brokenness tugs at something more
Primitive and universal
The damaged often provoke
Sorrow and pity
Disgust and anger

But I
I find it more beautiful

The graceful arc as it hurtles to the mahogany floor
Caresses the air it glides through
And violently embraces its end