I spent the evening cleaning up reflections <br />that were scattered, shattered on the bathroom floor. <br />I tried my hand at the reunification <br />of yeterday and today, of myself and the world. <br />But certainly tomorrow I will view myself again <br />in a thousand sharp-edged images <br />with no semblance of a common theme <br />with no reason for the rhyme <br />with no memory of the dream <br />embedded in the limestone. <br />So I shall spend another evening on my knees <br />in humble supplication to anyone <br />who can preserve me blameless, <br />and who will not be cut by these reflection-shards <br />that have scarred my withered hands.<br /><br />Christopher Parcels<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reflection-shards/
