broken grace
footprints wander the path
orange peels litter throughout the way
the ocean wells forth
for the thousand tears that have been cried
by each immaterial soul who has stalked the night
(searching for a voice to call its home)
the emptiness grows and
encompasses the abyss
(the black tunnel)
that we call life
and smile and laugh
and feed the empty
each of us breaking off a shard of glass
that we may remember when we were allowed
to forget
that we may grind to dust
and return our mind to the sand on the beach
where it once blew free
not afraid to get wet