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i broke  a teacup. It shattered in a singular way, a loss and a gain. The teacup in its simple perfection is gone not to be seen again. It was unique and now, now, it is something else but precious still. The pieces lay across the floor, piercing my memory in a brilliant display of form. Not the elegance of a whole cup, but the chaotic dismemberment laid out like stars, random figures draped in shadow. Brilliant because this too does not last. I miss the dead cup, but ow it is immortal.
©2005-2009 ~daraknor
:icondaraknor:

Author's Comments

Wrote this in 3 min after reading some more Fernando Pessoa in "Book of Disquiet"

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:iconrpen:
Wow! I'm speechless! :D I totally agree with the theme you've conveyed through this piece.

--
Proud to be a "Middle Eastern Blend"!

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December 13, 2005
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