Shattered Painted Glass, On Blackened Heads Bowed
The shroud is shattered, the beautiful painted
And glass casts a rainbow on bowed
Heads, blackened, lost.
Shattered, painted, the glass is brittle
Like the house that that owns it. Standing idle,
At the end of emotions knife, falling short.
A standing Idol, that separates the kneeling
And the watcher, looking through the
Window of frozen glass hearts
Palleting, ‘please’! On frosty canvas, forbidden
If only the artist would paint a door
Left open
Where love could walk through
And thaw the glass; in fear, the head still bowed
Stop! Stop! The hesitation, left waiting,
In the moment; past
And warmth on frozen window shatters the painted glass
Then spoke the hero, “I’m all that’s left, like the watcher, battered, broken.
And glass casts a rainbow on bowed
Heads, blackened, lost.
Shattered, painted, the glass is brittle
Like the house that that owns it. Standing idle,
At the end of emotions knife, falling short.
A standing Idol, that separates the kneeling
And the watcher, looking through the
Window of frozen glass hearts
Palleting, ‘please’! On frosty canvas, forbidden
If only the artist would paint a door
Left open
Where love could walk through
And thaw the glass; in fear, the head still bowed
Stop! Stop! The hesitation, left waiting,
In the moment; past
And warmth on frozen window shatters the painted glass
Then spoke the hero, “I’m all that’s left, like the watcher, battered, broken.