I'm sure shores were not intended to be this colorful. In fact, the enriched display is the result of litter, yet, on a beach of broken, bleached coral, I've come to fancy the colorful contrast of broken things. I even like to collect a few pieces each visit for some yet unknown future project.
I love how the shards of broken glass become smoothed over by the tide, rough edges polished. While the broken pieces won't become part of the whole again, they can be changed into something new. Though caught up for a time in the turbulence of the sea, beaten by the waves, many pieces still come to bank on the shore. While still susceptible to being swallowed up once more by the sea, there is also the potential for getting pushed farther and farther ashore, away from the temultuous sands and nearer to the weathered rocks.
I love the bits that are "fresh," still wet from the tide and glistening. They're most beautiful when reflecting the sun.
Sometimes I am a broken thing. Much like the glass without eyes, I fail to see the broken things around me. I'm still catching my breath and taking in the warmth of the Son, hoping that despite being tossed and tumbled, a piece of me can still reflect Light.
Like glass, I'm sometimes left feeling transparent, exposed, and vulnerable, at least for a time.
Sometimes the brokenness results in refinement. Other times, some rough edges remain, still waiting to be smoothed out. Even so, each time, the result is change. It's impossible to escape unchanged.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment