Glass Museum

Light filters in through like dappled water

Silent statues stand like sentries in every corner. Guard and watch –

The inner walls of my mind.

How many have found peace like this before?

Trail fingers against the cold cases, cases of crystal –

Cases of frozen time

And feel the ghosts of your hands never leaving.

Stare into wooden eyes, hollowed by centuries –

Buried in blindness. And your withered quartz eyes

Will never see me.

But I’ll dance, oh, I’ll dance

I’ll dance away the ropes on your signs and I’ll spin until the

Crisscrossed marble meets your soul.

I’ll guide you, I’ll lead you away into your resonating hall

Your shrines of grandeur and silent sights.

Now stand still. Here comes the smooth sandstone, swirling — and we’re knowing –

See the dust motes when they come out to dance for their pillars of light.

Pellucid box, your world is a labyrinth, cradling, cooing

Holding our phantoms safe.

And the warmth of sunlight caresses my feet, reaches through the glass

To massage my mind with his gentle kisses, illuminating until I can see –

The rippling garden greens from behind closed eyes.

The truth is, sometimes I wondered what I would do without you –

Sometimes I wondered who I would be –

But here in the glass museum — hush. The sentries are but lifeless.

There is so much noise and presence

When we

are simply


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