inspired by Blue Soap Bubble, by Joseph Cornell

A Second: The bumped glass shatters and falls as a photo is hung from the top of the box.

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A Day:  A tiny layer of gray has begun to build up on the shards like grains of sand,

Long gone relatives smile, their faces in pictures hanging from the wooden ceiling.

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A Year: The sharp shards are engulfed in fuzzy layers of monochromatic dust bunnies,

Lumber which encased their former home remains damp, the pictures lighter in the sun’s stare.

In formerly shiny metal, dark spots begin to collect as brown and red splotches break out.

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A Century: The now brown tinted glass shards lie beneath a layer of dirt and stones.

Lonely mahogany rots with the passage of time, gaping chasms left in the fungal wastes.

Internal rust spreads throughout the pole’s core, falling on the remains of faded photos.

Valleys of white have crawled through the glacier-like dark blue fabric for a hundred years.

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An Eon: The glass breaks further and further until it and the rich soil have become one.

Lying beams now cross each other, the box has collapsed due to failed structural integrity,

Inside, pebbles of rust and scraps of paper mix together until they are indistinguishable.

Varying pictures of long gone relatives are now long gone themselves.

Even still, it’s alright, you don’t need pictures to know the ripple of their lives are still ALIVE.