before I knew

that angels listened,

I ran frightened through dark

forests and forgotten towns.  I was

invisible, and silent, and screaming, and

alone.  Closing my eyes to sounds of pain, trying

not to hear visions of people shattering. It chased me,

followed me, lived my life.  And I spun broken, until another

lost soul opened up the light.  And the spinning me settled.

And listened. And watched.  Light drifted in, covered

darkness.  I saw songs, heard the glow rise.

And floating, soaring, feeling it all

in its fullness.  And they said to

find the broken ones,

and fix them

with light.



Broken (72/25)

Enter a place where nothing is as it seems.

Look around, listen, there are voices ~ everywhere,

whispering in the darkness.  Hear them, feel them,

they are broken and scarred, and you close your eyes,

feel that familiar ache in your chest. With your light,

you find crushed souls.  They find you, come to you,

drawn to your openness.  You collect them until your arms

overflow, shining light, filling in holes, whispering song,

but always more come, until they rain down

in an angry deluge over you.  Your light

begins to flicker.  There is broken

everywhere.  Darkness creeps

in.  A hand reaches out,

then pulls away. You

are alone with

all of the