Glass to Sand, Sand to Stone

I hold the assortment of my soul, hastily cupped in my palm.
Imagining what doesn’t fit or don’t belong.
Focusing so long every one softens and blends into another. There in the midst, my head and heart you belong.
Long before each particle existed alone, they were together.
I had comfort all my own.
Grains of sand cut at my body, burns my eyes. Blinking, blurry and stings, however I see clearly. The glass cuts, but no blood. The grain burns flesh, but no flames erupt.
Controlled, temperance, belonging, desire, dimensional freedom, I stand strong.
Aggressive assortment of emotion, I can’t just allow only one. Same said of pleasures, so many to choose from, but not a priority. I am lost in moment lost in expressive art I taste the raw desire of being. A cultivating articulated doubt, however, Allowed, bold, independent, but compassionate enough to allow the grains to mold and form its own story.
A path cleared enough to reach to mine. Breathtaking but feared all at the same time.
The glass may shatter again, the shards fall where they lie, fragile but strong enough to form anew.