The mirror shattered to reveal a forest
aching for relevance in this reality;
whispering sounds of ancient purity
over the reflected light in the sink below,
collecting like lightning in a bottle.

I too was pooled there amongst those cutting edges;
echoing the world on stage before me.
Awaiting the curtains to drop and take a bow;
usher the lot of us out to the streets below,
where sirens still wailed incessant panic
and cars congested like dry autumn leaves
while pedestrians walk from a to b,
oblivious to the forest in 13 c.