Luminescent, layered, rainbow swirls of every color. The object of delight reflected his face, his eyes, his smile.
He held it close. It sang to him.
It shattered
in his hands.
Shards of glass
flying
falling
cut deeply in his flesh. He bled, he wept.
He knelt down
among the fragments to search out every shard
collecting them so carefully, yet even so
his hands were wounded further by the work.
And even more as he began to set them alongside each other,
creating again,
building beauty of the sorrow:
a lamp.
Through which a light would shine
revealing still the colors of the first creation
and the blood stains,
some dried and left in place
some washed away by tears.
No comments:
Post a Comment