The Glass

A solitary glass sits on the table,
Intricately carved patterns
and geometric swirls
aglow from the pure radiating light.

It bounces off playfully
from shape to shape,
Casting ghostly rainbows
Over the delicately molted figure.

The slightest tremor sends it cascading
like a plummeting feather
Into shattering combustion.

The grace and awe of its existence
diminished to crystal shards of blood.