sometimes broken things can be beautiful from the breaking
poet, know this: thy heart shall be made full from the breaking

bird-song outside the window heralds the new day’s dawning
a cloud covers the sun; there is a lull from the breaking

sea-wrack and driftwood line the beach at the high tide’s margin
thus far and no farther, crashing waves fall from the breaking

the tongues of the joyful chimes have fallen silent and still
their bright brazen outburst cracked from the toll of the breaking

promises of eternity lie in a rose embrace
whisper: will fruit follow when petals fall from the breaking?

silence surrounds me as I look upon eyes of judgement
is paradise before, or only hell, from the breaking?

fever dreams of salvation whirl delirious, gleaming
cleared away, Niamh’s eyes see past the world’s shell from the breaking