Thursday, January 13, 2011

a glass

It's as if there had been, all this time, a sort of chipped and dirtied piece of glass before my eyes. I could not tell the difference in the trasnparency until it had been lifted from my view. The clarity would be inevitable...had I not all along knew the glass was there. Still, I left it in it's place, and filtered the world's light. I was altered, I was shifted. I saw things differently. That's why you never understood me. That's why you never took the time. I have removed the glass, just as it seems you've fallen into a piece of your own. I am clarity. You are confusion. At all the times like this one, we look to someone else. You are your own uplifting. You are your own clarity. The glass is only your hands, your closed eyelids. We are made of glass.

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