Brilliant Flotsam

The colors are rampant,
too much for a mind as singular as yours,
a rush of emotion
so vibrant
you live always on the edge
of breaking,
an unfamiliar place for one
once so competent,
and now rendered broken,
mere flotsam in the storm,
brilliant, wonderful
and lost,
alone

with only God’s hand to grasp
as you fall into the sea,
gasping for breath,
too broken to recognize,
too intact to matter.

About this poem. 

It’s a rough time. I’m not whining. It will pass. But it’s a fact.

The picture is of the hotel lobby at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. A sea of brilliant flowers made of colored glass. It’s breathtaking in person. I stop by and revisit it almost every time I go to Vegas for work.

Tom