Shards of Glass

I've always found a sincere natural representation of beauty in shards of glass.

Micrometer sharp and completely smooth, the contours form instantly and precisely when glass is shattered.

Whether it be a millions of years old hunk of obsidian lying in some forgotten field, or some drunks tumbler of scotch smashed on a barroom floor, the effect is the same.

Simultaneously as dangerous as it is beautiful, broken glass is an amazing candidate for the duality of Nature.  Something that must be carefully managed, as it is swept up off the floor or picked up keen-fully and fastened to the end of spear.