Worldview collides with unseen barriers,
falling in upon itself, closing as the sun
dips below the horizon of definable categories -
the blossom of imagination folds.
Night terrors assail what is left of definition
as apathy resists her own death
and poverty stirs in the bowels of my soul
as my fingers caress my blessedness.
And as the sun rises on a new day,
descriptions dance like butterflies in June,
pollinating the blossom of my resurrection
shining light upon my shattered worldview.
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