Achromatopsia

These broken shards,
they must mean something,
for they cause twinges in my soul,
echos of something unrecalled,
like wisps of fleeting smoke.

Distractedly, I had studied
those fragments of different size,
some like paper, with rough-torn edge
yet others hard and sharp,
but what all had in common
was their shade of silver-dark.

My interest now slightly aroused.
By that hue of gloomy-slate,
that one fact so disconcerting
for what form did they once take?

I then tried to assemble
this puzzle to a whole,
but none aligned with certainty,
due to their one color.

Aside, I cast them all,
for I could bear their sight no longer,
but then – a distant pang!
in throwing them a blunder.

I at once glanced down,
to the fresh wound on my finger,
to the single drops of charcoal,
a dull weeping without vigor.

And then I knew at once,
the why I could not see,
and the why I had not known,
due to the dripping at my feet.

For when the heart has turned to ash,
burned fiercely in it’s pain,
only a cinder-soot of black
flows weakly through one’s veins.

A flicker of recognition,
lit weakly in my mind,
those shards they looked familiar
but from another time…

But no! I refuse!
I cannot stand it, oh the pain!
Collapse upon the frigid steel
once more to numbing gray.

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