People are like Windows,
Made of glass.
We are marked or cracked or broken.
Behind our panes,
You see what we frame.
The darkness of night and the evil in the shadows.
We choose what to show.
We can blot out the joy and see only pain.
Glass lies shattered on the floor where we were hurt.
But even the shards can reflect the light.
Let the joy shine through and illuminate the room.
Rainbows emerge from bent glass,
Sunlight and moonbeams slant through the frame.
Marked or cracked or broken,
Nothing determines what we let shine through.
People are like Windows,
Made of glass.
Beautiful!!!!