Prisms in Broken Glass

*shimmering light, flashing rainbows, a dark chamber pierced by only a single beam of light. Motes of dust float in the air like the sparkles in a fae maiden's diaphonous gown. In the center of the ephereal beam, surrounding by the glistening darkness, is a small figure wrapped in a mud stained robe of green, staring fearfully into the tenebrous dark*

It is fire.. It is deepest gloom, shattering brilliance in a dying room.
Blazing shards of repentious light, flaring shadows in a dance of fright.
Wicked whispers in crimson shades, dancing falters rigid frames.
However in the mist we bled, twirling in a killing bed.

All of antiquity trapped in a crystal bright,
fading plants in winter blight.
Fractured memories on sheets of glass,
in relinquished shades of times long past.

To the starlight sighing flies,
a frelintious wist of flagging cries.
However twisted prancing spins,
a raptous flight of murky fens.

To climbing spirals music flies,
frank and crushing secrets high.
Shadows wrapped in draken hide,
to curl up within to die.

Felicious hope in window frame,
distant futures yet to claim,
in the sordid after made,
a snicking blade of fritting plane.

Forever shadows stretch hereout,
and dwarven silhouttes of doubt,
in the refracting quartzen tame,
dischordic liquids twist and came.

Children cringe in mildest feem,
decrepit figures in the hame,
shaldurin fists of raging meet,
on shields of heros crying deep.

Mysteries of the future come,
within the arcing shifting dome,
to deep within the sounding sheem,
forever drowned in vassal beam.

*Note from Author: It is what it came to be, and nothing more than it was. Your explanation has as much meaning as mine I fear, just take from it what you will*