Thursday

City of blue tile.
Figure in Ceramics.
Where we reach out.
Grab for Porcelain.
But it's too fragile to hold.
And it shatters in our hands.
In time the seasons will seal these shards.
Into the slits that denote your wrists.
Death is the answer.
To calculations composed of motions that are the same.
And secret and different (secretly the same).
A missing alphabet with a message for us.