Origins (Glass Labyrinth III)

All your origins are still stuck between
your toes as you run, barefoot,
across the shards of the universe
as the glass of realities collapsing
rains down on you

[you press the thoughts against your chest, reabsorbing the tears and the greatness, running with cuts under your feet and a sense of urgency snatching the threads out of your hands as your being blends into the cataclysm, and entangled you push on]

and those who remember will know you
by the embers of constellations burning
on your forehead
tracing the steps of your flight
through the catastrophic failure
of words building worlds breaking worlds, cascades of cyphers, glyphs marking your hands

as you still wonder, running,
when did the labyrinth grow so big

(The part in square brackets is optional at this stage; undecided whether it’s actually part of this piece or a meta comment.)


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