An opening, all that remained between the world outside
and an abandon sanctuary existing within the solid walls.

Treading through the tiny pieces of broken stained glass,
scattered, fallen amidst the many cracks and crevasses.

Looking up, perhaps to imagine the lost glimmering beauty,
characteristics those fragments may have once possessed.

Through the opening, a shadow moves across the room.
A cloud unveils the sun, momentarily reflecting something.

A flicker, from across the room, an intricate piece of glass.
Part of a face, eyes reveal a brief sparkle, a gleam of hope.

Above, a cloud interjects delivering a single droplet of water,
trickling from sight as you carefully reach down to pick it up.

Is restoration worth the trouble? It takes time, much patience.
I watch as you ponder, already picking up pieces one by one.

A cluster of damaged pieces, perceived as ruined, to discard,
yet beyond the damage, you saw potential, a restored image.