My Glass House

I walked my walk up to a house of glass

and up the crystal stairs that gleamed and shined with sun.

I walked up to a house that was my life,

and hardly knew what I had done.

The walls were mirrored: reflecting, liquid worlds,

that whirled around their world: my presence at their heart.

The lights shone out, irradiating bright,

 surrounding me: their work of art.

I walked like leather squeak across the shine,

while lengthenated copies copied me around

If ever angle looked to me too poor,

a different view I quickly found.

My many interests, mirrored, to my touch:

my nova bursts of crystal brilliance: shining bright

walked their rounded walkway all around

and crowned my circled pomp with light.

And then a rock, hurled high from far below

that creaked a crack like vines across my glassy gleam

made all my faces fracture with a gasp

and shards of shattered rainbow dreams.

I sat my seat surrounded by the shine

and bits of me that covered all the space

till time had turned and timed around again.

And then I saw that it was grace.


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