Slanted slivers of slighted light,
and--
shifting shafts of shadows.
Play upon the window glass,
and prisms reflect an array of pastel transparent.
The--
very still and solitary statue,
stained with stagnant rain?
Dripped into mossy green,
from grey and blunt white.
Quiet--
is the slip of a paper cut-out woman,
as she weeps in the corner.
Tears and flesh fall to wooden floors,
and seep into the cracks.
Pooling--
into a mire of creation?
Stark--
Cathedral coffin coiffed for austere perfection,
only one cries for the departed,
but is she even human?
Sunlight.
Stone.
Rain.
Wood.
Mother Nature only weeps.
View User's Journal
-Gag- What was the point in waking up this morning?
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