Brokenness and Beauty

This little project came about by having the crazy idea to smash some glass and crack some mirrors, for fun.. :)

At first, I had a vision of surrounding this wooden frame with the broken mirror pieces, kind of like putting a puzzle back together.

Then the more creative, artistic side of me kicked in as I stood in the basement looking at cans of paint..and finding some broken glass in the recycling bin..

Lo and behold, a bit of a concept emerged as I hot glued my fingers together and endured a few slices (I later resorted to wearing gloves)..

I remembered a conversation I had with a close friend, Mama Kate, about how everyone has a bit of brokenness in their life. Although we all carry these pieces or maybe shards, there is someone who can put us back together. We may be battered and bruised but we will be refined as a new masterpiece, rising from the depths of brokenness.

"Tossing seas, broken fragments washed up on shore to be gathered by One who can put them back together- the glass does not look the same, but is artfully and carefully placed to create a new masterpiece- out of brokenness comes beauty"

A Bit of Light Carried

Would it be captivating to stand on the edge of a cliff, you and I
With flickering glances sharing bits of soulful meaning?
These conflicting thoughts;
Some things are best kept to yourself.

In a moment of suspense
Determining your way of communication
We'll stare on.

Would it be of worth to risk oneself
Jumping into the frigid cold uncertainty,
Perhaps rising with a glow of meaning
And contentment longed for?

We can only take the plunge face first,
submerging our fears into the darkness,
rising again to the surface carrying a bit of light with us-
something learned, a character renewed.

-mw

Listen to the silence
Whispering secrets in your ear
Piercing the nights cold tear
And diminishing your overbearing fear
-mw

Without The Fear Of Their Return

As morning glories bloom
So do some things in life this way
Rising early but well past noon
They weaken, die, and fade
But there's many perspective buds
Still clinging to the vine
Waiting in patience to show
Their glory at later times

-Weaver At The Loom

Sanctitatis

Vere Sanctus es,
Domine Fons omnis sanctitatis,
Domine
-Future Of Forestry

Children of the Son

We're standing on the edge of a cliff
hoping that when we leap
somehow we'll fly

but we'll fall down, down, down
praying we held on a little tighter

for there was an ounce of strength
a bit of roaring power within our bones

Have you forgotten?

We pretend to be sons and daughters
of ancient stars; our power being defeated

but we're not..
..we're children on the Son

We choose to search this mundane world
for a glimmering of hope..

pretending that our fears would subside
if we were carried away with the wind

But we're not of this world,
we're not.