Photo by Igor Ovsyannykov on Unsplash

A Broken Vase

He carries a broken vase between
two worlds where he is caught and finds
it filled in morning air while
gathering shards strewn on ground.
In the evening it is empty
and the thirst is a fire
that is never satiated.
In the night eyes are tearless
wells — a familiar ache
fills the soul. Morning rises
with the sun: bright light burns
into an open, broken chest.
Embrace the warm jar of clay:
find it filled. Once again
he gathers shards and carries the vase
between two worlds where he is caught.

To support the poet’s benign coffee addiction: Coffee.