Bright Wonder

Shining stars underfoot

reflect a sky of broken glass

with chandeliers

of angels' tears

falling to shatter

into a broken sky.


The world ceases to be what it was,

it never was what we knew it to be;

now we see and surmise

of leaden butterflies

the fragments of dream

falling far from flight.


The bright of the night

cast rays of black light

on dire distresses, 

reflecting from the

barrage of colour,

existence in the

form of unbeing, 

as if the fae painter 

had lost his mind.


Allow beholders to find

stars in the sea, 

and crosses in 


 thought is the aberration 

of all that truly is.


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