Reflections in a Dark Room
©August 2nd, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
A thread of silver wound its way
Through the dark and the light,
And stopped, and turned, and knelt
And straightened, and looked,
And returned to its place.
Lured on by shadows and song,
Transfixed by tragedy and loss, and
Tugged at by the inevitable, which was
Once one of many possibles, which became
The only inevitable, a freezing river,
On which the thread eddied upward,
Then floated down, airborne,
A whole life skated
Away into a vanishing world.
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