Among the Weeds

The fracture seems so small
As it snakes its way into the rock
Hard and strong
Yet imperfect in context
Love in extremis
Like the bloom off a rose
Fragile in its ecstasy
Controlled by time
Worn and precipitous
Age old and melancholy
Extending for miles
Coming together at the end
Cracked pieces of a whole
Left in the sun to mellow
Like gold on a summer’s eve
Or the varnish on a vase
But coming to a close
Stressed to its breaking point
Yet holding firm
Against strong odds
Reversing the tide
Until it flows back out
To the sea from whence it came
Sealed up like a tomb
Like the rock that barred entrance
But that is here no more
Scattered among the weeds.

Sam