Before me is a window,
Stained to perfection and filled with color.
Attractive to all who see it,
And comforting to others.
But the window holds something more.
A large irregular rock flies through the window,
And shatters the glass as it makes its way inside.
The glass is sharp and dangerous,
No longer comforting.
It will draw blood from deep within
If not handled properly.
The glass is swept into the trash
And every shard makes its way to the dump.
As the wind blows and the world turns,
The glass makes its way to the water,
It begins to dance in the waves.
As the gentle calm ocean
Caresses the fragments of beauty they change.
They become gentler as the water flows,
And they begin to change their character.
The glass is no longer sharp,
It no longer is able to draw blood,
No longer able to cause pain.
The gentle ocean has changed it,
It has changed its very ways.
The glass has lost something,
It has lost its edge.