My mind is an old crystal vase

It is withered and worn

Small little crakes

Some are seen

Some are so small they seem to not exist

The pattern has changed through the years

It is not smooth

Nor is it bright & clear

But it is becoming unique

With every little chip that arrives

They say the mind is an endless source

However mine seems to be pulling away

Just one little piece that keeps the flow

From connecting with the inter self

Knowing no way to return

Just different forever

Traci Williams

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