Stones to a Slingshot

Break the window. Why wait for it to cave? Crack it like an old man’s face— even if it shatters, don’t say sorry. Words were never meant for beauty, nor were they meant for dense cover. Words are stones to a slingshot. Broken glass will summon winds to breathe their way through, to whisper to the shards. Snowflakes are not to be confined in crystal, but distinguished by the light of a golden ray. Why wait like a church? I am a factory in ruins. My windows are shattered all.