Prisons Painted Glass

You wept beneath hot stones of silver,
your heart now resolute in its growing fever.

You wept bitter and hard for this pitiful day,
and pined unknowing for a promised tomorrow.

I cried for you as you hoped softly without hope
And I prayed silent upon your fleeting dream.

I prayed that you above all would not remember the pain of deaths sting.
For I watched you from within my fragile stained glass hall,

I wanted to reach out, to speak, to answer your pleading call,
Yet bound by chains was I, unable to press forward or move.

I was captured, and incarcerated by the unforgiving tick of time
and held secure without measure in the precincts of this desolate room.

I watched you now as you turned three quarter and look into my way
And I struggled with the cruel ties to which my spirit is bound

I mouthed with my entire all from pursed lips of pain…

I uttered the simple and pure words of I love you from beneath a crimson stain.

But the white glint of light from my prisons painted glass pierced your fading soul

It gave wings to the stones of silver as from your eyes eternal kisses were stole.

J. Allen Wilson © Ten 2006