Hey guys, this poem is my first attempt at writing something straight up spoken word style. So being as its more for performance than just for reading I don't know if you can get a whole lot of of it. But I figured I would post it up here anyway, because that's what I do. Enjoy.(;
Stained Glass Lifestyle
By Dillon Collins
I love aliterations. Literally... The poetry from my crazy messed up head flowing outward to make me free. not all of my words are going to have some rhyme or even reason, but perhaps just maybe you can have a glimpse of what I'm seeing.
Created bursts of fragmented beauty, but only after being shattered, being broken in all of the right places. The Creator lovingly takes the perfect pieces, making absolutely no sence by themselves, and welds them into the whole in such way as to bring out their, as yet unrealized, inner beauty. Breaking them perfectly, according to His master design plan. Beautiful in brokenness we hang from our sometimes lofty positions...
So fragil...
Ready so quickly to fall and shatter everything that we are, once again...
Not shattered with the beauty of design in mind, mind you, but broken (by human standards) in such a way as to never be able to be repaired. But we go on fighting the fragil hooks that hold us up, feeling trapped on the wall as if everyone is staring. Not realising that if we lose our hooks, and try to hang only on our own power, we will be falling, which can only end in being broken...
Now granted we should be fragil, ready to be broken in all the right places to enhance our inner beauty. But we can't think that if we start wrestling with and breaking ourselves that we'll end up with anything more than a jagged dangerously painful mess, slicing deep Into the wrists of our Lord...
You know what the crazy thing about this gig is? The crazy thing about all this stained glass lifestyle is as we're living and hanging on our own power, (falling really) slicing so deeply into the blood red wrists of God, burying our jagged broken bodies in the holes in his hands, slicing and cutting and making Him bleed for us in raging agony, He simply says...
"Come dear Children, I love You."
