.:s h a t t e r e d:.
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.:shattered:.
Broken glass
And tattered cloth
In a box
Of gnarled wood
Days go by
And things seem clearer
On the fly
As they grew nearer
An hourglass
Of oak and gold
Time will pass
While they grow old
And in the end
Things shall change
They break and bend
Until it's strange
Fled from this space
And to the last
Nothing shall replace
Their shattered glass
Copyright 2001 John Berger.