Aren’t we all a piece of
stained glass pottery?
Trotting through life,
playing through its lottery.
We begin with a white, worthless,
Inconspicuous, fragile, off guard!
In the quest to add a liitle value to ourselves,
We pick some colours from the world’s shelves.
We become stained glass-
A cathedral’s window
Or a flower vase.
The light changes us sometimes.
At others we change it to
a spectrum sublime.
We exchange a few glances
with the world.
Some stories we tell.
Some remain untold.
Then one day we break nevertheless!
The colours go with us
in mysterious ways…
Fragile we still were, to all the way there.
Worthy or worthless?
PS: Metamorphosis of an old neglected vase once inhabited by a moneyplant.
It took refuge under me and I painted it with every colour of my imagination.