Riddles's Journal

A sharp corner shatters the still silence

The surface trembles and jerks

Falling away, out from shock

The tears loosen the glue

All falling down - open to view

The masked morsel of identity revealed

Reviled but held accountable, there

For those to see – the truth of what is

Or shall be, of who and what – the why

Or how

The cluttered remains of hidden identities,

Silver slivers shine solemnly, glittering

Golden forms broken by solid means

Bricked up no longer, stone breaks

Glass, glass no longer, shiny no longer

New, no more – tragic, aged but still

Real, in fact – much more real than ever

Known and seen