i break...

shards of glass hit the floor making a puddle around my feet every time this happens. the chandelier below reflects the one above sending light into the cosmos that is beginning to form. not to be seen, heard or touched; only to be understood. an unknown pattern comes from beneath the surface, color, texture all changed from what existed before. but it is not complete, only to be repaired by the one who broke it initially. it wont let me let go. i stare. i follow. i listen. another shard falls away. it is too grueling to see the creation of the new pattern begin. glass falls shattering into disarray. alternating between after the before and before the beginning only to come back to the end.