A looking glass

 

 A Looking Glass

 

Who will look into the glass 

Of all the worlds, and times, and the past?

Who will see the clear reflection.

Of God, the innocent, the perfection?

What eyes will know, what heart will feel.

The self, the Glory, the knowing, within the, calm, the still?

Who will see the child, in the aged, and old?

The beauty, of decay, beneath the things we’ve been told.

The shaking voice, the trembling hand, or in the softness of a newborn’s hand.

To know the secret beneath the veil.

The hidden things, behind the stories we tell.

Childhood. Aged. Between and betwixed.

There lies something, beautiful, forever, a truth unchanging. Fixed.

Who will seek that which cannot be sought.

The glory of God, where no battles, are fought.

Behind all the words we say, and things we do.

Look, see, There is God, inside of you.

Dark or night, day or bright.

Here, there shines an eternal love.

See it fly. High above.

 And so, I see as we pass so blindly, and disregard things that don’t look shiny.

Pause a moment, please.

For in the looking of that space.

You give yourself, love, and grace.

And hold the moment, with your hand, aged, young, new, or gritty, smooth, turn into glass, all the sand.

And peer into that clear moment.

And with your seeing, and heart of gold.

All things unreal fall away, and the truth unfolds.