Stain glass soul.

Sometimes I feel
That my soul is made of cracked glass
Different pieces from broken mirrors, prisms and shattered crystal
All joined together, jagged piece against piece,
Making up a patchwork with tiny spaces and gaps in between.
When I shut the light out,
That’s all it is,
A sad,forlorn little hodgepodge of cut ends and thrown-away pieces.
And whenever I let the light in, it splits into a multitude of rainbows, zigzagging in and out of the spaces, lighting up my soul.
Dancing and weaving in and out of these broken pieces,
The beauty of the discarded.
A kaleidoscope of colour.

Gautami.

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