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My soul shattered like an empty vase.
It fell irretrievably down the stairs.
If fell from the hands of the careless maid.
It fell, breaking into more pieces than there was china in the vase.

Nonsense? Impossible? I’m not so sure!
I have more sensations than when I felt like myself.
I’m a scattering of shards on a doormat that needs shaking.

My fall made a noise like a shattering vase.
All the gods there are lean over the stair rail
And look at the shards their maid changed me into.

They don’t get mad at her.
They’re forgiving.
What was I but an empty vase?

They look at the absurdly conscious shards –
Conscious of themselves, not of the gods.

They look and smile.
They smile forgivingly at the unwitting maid.

The great staircase stretches out, carpeted with stars.
A shard gleams, shiny side up, among the heavenly bodies.
My work? My primary soul? My life?
A shard.
And the gods stare at it, intrigued, not knowing why it’s there.