What fragility lies within it:
A million waves of electric light.
With those who view it to be unfit;
So overwhelmed, they cower in fright.
But can they see what lies beneath?
Beneath the thunder, beneath the storm?
Can they see past the damage of the myelin sheathe?
Can they see the soul so broken and torn?
The days fly by in the blink of an eye,
Sparks of light shooting through the view
Of a world so cold, with its graying sky,
And to wish nothing less than life anew.
The storm rumbles strong against the sides
Of a brain made of glass, and nothing more.
How can she face the flowing tides
When the world turns dark, and rigid, and sore?
And so, the people tiptoe past - ever so softly -
Scared by the sharpness of the broken shards.
And so, she sits - dreaming and praying awfully -
That time would turn back, to days not so hard.
But is time not a sovereign master?
It does not listen to the desperate pleas.
For the electric brain holds all disasters;
Shattered memories bringing all to their knees.
So, she sits, and waits, and holds the thunder
Tucked away in her brain of glass.
Waiting for life - to behold the wonder
Of fragile love - to begin, at last.
