I throw shattered glass in the air
then breathe the brokenness with
no ounce of fear.
So broken glass,
like a rain of shining drops of
cut crystal puzzles
are rough-edges of no colour
that Iluminate the spectrum of my mind
but tear my lungs to shreads and
into cracks of breathing. It is beautiful:
How broken things that reflect
can inspire a fire in me.
How broken darts can burn
in love so great
like His Fire that burns in the bush
Of my heart.
Photocredit: Burning Bush by Michael Power