Analysis II

it broke, and the edges are jagged
and sharp

like a storm, you headed out to sea
thunder and lightning my company

there are depths to the heart
deep go the roots of the tree

all living things need water

to drink at the wells of joy
and know the dark taste

of all things passing

fractured glass: 
	the flash   in the sun

the way warps in a haste
of time passing

holding all things
fast in its arms

and the struggle of fight
of alarms, seems far from me

but the shards of all
I remember rip me apart

and the storms, they stay -

the water rains
on a small patch of grass, not large

but it does not stop
and deep are the wells of weeping

and there is a place
dark down

where I sit and keen, wear black
with no lights

where I have sat so long I cannot move
turned to stone

where I am not free
and where none come

and all around are the wastes
of life, life that does not work, that is not fair

and where, forever,
all we do is part -

who would want to join me there
and yet we birth

every day
as if it had not been and were not real

as if we belonged
to all the things that harm

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