Looking Through Stained Glass

Stained Glass

Someone asked just what thoughts amass
When I compared my soul to stained glass

Just as some are small circles depicting pastures ethereal
While others are massive messianic adorning a cathedral

Some souls will always be quiet, tender spirits
As others are so grand, though far you feel near it

Yes, stained glass is lovely, as lovely as can be
But tell me, when looking, just what do you see?

Just the colorific shards formed into beautiful scenes
But do you appreciate the intricacies of their means

You can’t always tell a soul, by what the holder will say
It’s a combination of things that come into play

The fine vein of leading that holds it all together
The paint strokes both thick and as fine as a feather

Some souls are fearful of life preferring to be stagnant
Some lovely souls are built from once hurtful fragment

Whether looking inside-out in the light of day
Or viewing outside-in when night holds sway

Some souls are transparent; some are of a deeper hue
Some souls are just so dark no light can shine through

But not one pane of beauty can be appreciated
Unless, of course, the glass is illuminated

And not just any source light, as cloudy days can attest
The light that shines through, must be at its brightest

Thus, the true beauty of a person is more than just their skin
It’s from the light from their souls that shines from within

One can try to mislead, but ultimately one can’t control
The true luminosity of the light that defines their soul

And if a description of my soul ever comes to pass
I hope it’s told as being the brightest of stained glass

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© 2006 Raivenne (All rights reserved)

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