A bolt of lightning

streaking,

flashing,

across the

gray-hued

surface

of a boulder.

A fractured dream,

a broken winged

bird,

a deep crevasse

that is ashen.

Scars,

telling the story

of all their

lives,

unable to be

brought into the

light,

unable to heal.

Some things

are permanent.

Almost like

a broken

heart

piece by

p

i

e

c

e

slowly drifting.