Poetry, Slice of life

The Empty Jar

poured out

with bursts of creativity

the condensation of tears

rushing the clatter of small talk

the jar becomes empty

not shattered

not broken or stained

just empty

transparent

it is a good thing

to sit by a window

catching sunshine

to cast rainbows

across silent rooms

until the jar

is filled up again

by whispers of twilight

carried on the breath of kairos

shadows

spread blue velvet

over your skin

under the moon

peering yellow over the horizon

the trees reach up

to caress the golden warmth

that falls in the west

the earth stops spinning

till the crickets sing

and all but the knowing sleep

under a dream of tomorrow

and reflections

of a company of stars