Was a hallucination that had to pass.
Freedom fenced in by hopes and desires.
We are glass blowers
Creating crystalline concepts of beauty.
Straining so hard, blowing so gently,
So deathly afraid of creating a crack.
Not seeing all along, that the crack was
What our beauty lacked.
A fissure frozen, floating fantastic
In this glassen creation's dull gray dawn.
A mistake to add meaning to our mockery
Of a mirage.
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