Thursday, December 23, 2010

Quadrangle #4

Side 4


Tonight I will measure out the lines

I will stride from the stones to bench to tree

I will step softly and avoid the mines

Set there by those who hate me to be free



I am now a broken kaleidoscope

Every month I am turned by my meds

Their changes turn the dial, my perceptions

Shift as the shattered glass turns and my

Personality changes, the colours

Define me, but they have moved against each

Other, grinding, producing sparks that start

Fires I can only see through broken glass



Something's under the ice, the ice is thin

It rises, the ice cracks, lines spread out like

A spider web etched on the frozen skin

I will hold them, the lines on this cold lake



Through the lines of broken glass I can see

The spider web of my soul torn apart

By gales of med driven wind from each side

Of the square, so I stand in the middle

And despairingly, desperately try

To hold it together, as stones and trees

Move when my back is turned and the lines shift

Distort and break and I obsessively

Walk the lines, stone, bench, tree. I try to heal



I will mend the line, reaffirm the web

I will allow metaphors to be real

No shifting glass, all the glass will be wed

To the light that pours through me as I heal
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