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Reflections on a Glass Dream

Updated on November 20, 2017

I bought cups when in actuality all she wanted was a ring. I thought the residual drops from the mugs would help us spark up things again. Water mixed with fire isn’t normally how you make a flame. Flings blow over just as fast as they begin.

After the debris clears it doesn’t matter who’s to blame. I was chef in the kitchen but eating alone in the darkness. Alone like a king because she’s thinking of imperial things. I’m thinking but not doing, still trying to get back in; thinking about solutions to her problems while making no effort to address the issues within me. Glasses lifted up from the table, beneath us everything.

No coasters covering the glass, the cups left two circles marked on the glass table. Two wet marks where there was supposed to be two rings.

Right above the glass fable, there I stood wanting to finish what we had and add on something new. New like a white wedding dress and a mandarin tailored suit. Together as one; as if we’re living as we. As if we could live with more truth and less dishonesty. Just lying honest with her forever, challenging her mind and making her clever. She’s right by my side like the companionship of a 38 Special. She was that special one; you always remember your first Beretta. She was that special one; who taught me how to aim and keep my head up. The type of girl who would cock back and fire shots whenever she was fed up.

Now I hear shots fired I keep my head low but remember all that was said. Even what is said in jest, they’ll always leave something for you to know. If real really recognizes its self, then this fact should already be known.

When rocks and stones get thrown at glass doors and glass homes, the ones that break in, are the same ones that run when they hit glass things. All the glass around them comes down shattering. Shattered and shook up because I was stood up in the dark with no more love and my place mats set because all she wanted was a girl’s best friend and a ring to match. Pardon my perception all I could see was me and you together, not us, not we, so I went and bought a matching dinner set. In a moment my whole world caved in. This is when all my glass dreams got wrecked.

Attempt to imagine how I was feeling when my glass house was cracking above me. This is what I believed when her glass slipper busted and she couldn’t spare one more piece, I’m the one that makes the choices regarding my destiny, so why is my life being smashed in? Opinion isn’t fact but its more trend setting then new fashion. Before the glass shards hit the floor I came to an understanding which soon became over stood so now picture me standing:

Brushing off fragments and pieces of a glass world once enchanted, a light emerged. I was adjusting to the dark quickly like an owl or another night bird and the message I needed was clearer than transparent gestures. An analytical mind allows too many riddles to be birthed so I closed my eyes walked out the kitchen over the broken dreams and to the front door. Out of the former glass doorway over the new glass path I knelt and underneath me, Mother Earth I felt. She consoled me and told me about this story of this man. He was a dreamer who grew up to become an architect who followed his dreams developing them into plans and following them out, followed by building a glass house he never left. He relied on nothing but his own and in time he thought he was set but in actuality he was all he had left. Righteously thinking him and his glass house were so blessed. Then one day the man saw someone outside on his steps. He had no voice left because of all the time spent alone so he grabbed the only thing not glass in his home and threw a big stone. His home was built strong, he had a great foundation so when the stone didn’t inflict any pain to the stranger he grabbed the same rock and threw it at the same spot until it broke through and hit pavement. Before the man’s voice could beckon a bellow to the mysterious outside fellow, the hole started breaking crackling up to the ceiling and down to the basement. It didn’t take long for his house to be demolished and as he watched it come down all of his lifelong work had been reduced to garbage. He was reduced to rage but with no man in sight he soon turned away. Finally realizes what had happened. And what happened was his lonely mind started to play tricks and the man outside was in all actuality him... being that’s the look a reflection gives.

Take this for what it is; every dream dreamt is not the same in reality, being a dreamer is not the only way to live. Loving someone to death can only hurt that place above your ribs and listen to what she’s got to say, know what she wants so you know what to bring. Nothing is perfect in this world, if you imagine a perfect world it’ll be too much to bear when it comes crashing. You can build a glass house but be conscientious of all your actions, stones can be thrown in and from any direction.

© 2017 Ali T Muhammad

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