Kaleidoscope

Night speaks

Through heartbeats breath

Forcing taut thought

Through battled dreamscape

Thin wisps of meaning I try to

Grasp with skeletal claws

But they are weak

And fleeting

And I

Bound by

Four strong walls

And eight

Pairs of eyes,

Am too mortal

To climb these

Heaven shafts of light for long

Before my body and mind spent;

Come crashing

Down

Down

Down

To earthly floor

Again bruised and broken

Because I am inside looking out

When I so desperately want

The opposite

Those who care

And look beyond pupil

See the Kaleidoscope;

The shattered me

Gluing the pieces

Together again

If I am skilled

And ever so gentle

Perhaps I might

Hide the best parts

That are left

Within patterns of the marred

Cracks and scars

Reviews

[Markymark]

Without the shards and beads, the whole of the Kaleidoscope is diminished or made less fascinating. To those observing only tidbits and circling colors, the whole of Tracie gets left somewhere against the mirror. I see bit's of Tracie in her ink, and the scars and cracks give her quill impetus to etch the parchment.

Great stuff--

Mark

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I think we do all feel this way sometimes...it's just life...and we tend to take it way too seriously. ;o)

[Bud]

If we look at our lives and what lives within, the heart specifically, we find that it is much like walls baring paint. Over time they become withered and crack under the stresses of abuse caused by those who pass by. Every now and then we have to apply a fresh coat of paint, renewing the spirit of the wall. Releasing what's within is the best way to hide the best parts... no one sees what's in plain site for the beauty of what is. Is not the paint ignored once released from the container? Yes, for it is now seen for it's beauty, not as paint.

As always, an Outstanding piece of art.

[Ed Hart]

this too shall pass...the weight of others, leaning through their eyes, burdens learning souls, but you are not alone...and this hour that looks so much like forever is a passing storm...winters sometimes are hard, but spring is always spring