The Art of Brokenness

It was two in the morning,

When the photo frame hanging on the wall, fell without a warning.

Maybe the nail, could not bear the burden anymore,

Or perhaps it was meant to be broken to the very core.

Was it the only thing that was shattered in the room?

Was it destiny, cracking in density, swept by the broom?

Looking at the pieces of crystal glass,

Representing something which did not last-

Something that will never be back to the way it was,

Something that had not obeyed the natural laws?

Something that awhile was soaring high on the wall,

And within a fraction of time experienced a mighty fall.

Did the photograph inside bruised due to collapse?

Or was it just the outside frame that relapsed?

Scratches were left on photograph due to detrition-

Was the damage caused beyond recognition?

Mortal things were broken beyond repair,

The thought of it filled him with despair!

So, he stood there in that silent room to pray,

Looking at the blank wall, painting shades of gray!

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2 Replies to “The Art of Brokenness”

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