SEA GLASS

(Male voice — vocoded, distant)

Let me tell you something…

While it’s still sharp

in my head…

A splinter of thought

cuts clean and cold.

I try to hold

what cannot hold.

We build from points—

from jabs and edges.

But truth is round,

and we break the pledges.

(Instrument: Hollow synth pulses in stereo; panning detail like shifting glass.)

You try to measure

what was meant to be felt.

You sharpen the moment

‘til nothing is left.

But I have held

the broken things—

and found them soft

beneath the sting.

(Chime-like synth accents enter gently, mirroring “held” and “soft.”)

in pieces too small.

Sea glass shining in our hands—

not what it was

but where it stands.

We found it worn

along the tide—

a bottle shattered

but still alive.

Each moment’s

a pane of glass.

Fated to break.

Not meant to last.

Poetry’s science

for what can’t be solved—

shapes of emotion

left unresolved.

Don’t try to rebuild

what time erased.

There’s beauty here

in what’s replaced.

Not every edge

needs to be smoothed.

Some broken lines

still speak the truth.

Sea glass shining in our hands—

not what it was

but where it stands.

We don’t rebuild

the bottles past—

we let them go.

We let them last.

The splintered shards

are beautiful anyway.

We find them on the beach…

and let them stay.

(Last sound: a high-pitched chime echoing like light off broken glass)