Many times the glue slips
And i explore shards
Tumble into the mystery of fixing.
How my fingers turn away
from the familiarity of sky.
Stars wait in the shade of time
As my thumbs brush away
Thoughts of flight .
Never discovering the right
And quiet position of space.
What does tomorrow hold
In her gentle arms.
Jumbled pieces which i must make right
Brokenness that i without sophistication
fill with my inconsequential virtue.