silver glistening hangs from above
gazing in awe in hope of a touch
thousands of shining swords
hang
a shake or touch is enough for them
to give up their hope and shatter
somthing so delicate and peaceful
hanging
growing with pride in powders melt
a race, a game they play
hoping to be first to break from being
hung

a statue, now a barrier strong
the life of it living so long
kept away in it's own pride
growing stronger in each water stride
slipping down filling it with power
the strength grows even by the hour
in the dark where no sunlight sails
it has it's own shimmer as it prevails
until you came and disturbed it all
pushing and gouging, causing it to fall
the beauty now broken skattered around
it's song now quieted, blank with no sound

leave it alone
it meant no harm
it's pride was earned
but you were alarmed
that one day
it would be stronger
when the sun warmed the earth
it would have lived longer

silver glistening hangs from above
gazing in awe in hope of a touch
thousands of shining swords
hang, hanging, hung