The Smith
For every set of windows given, another lies so near
As opaque the set of two may be, the third is crystal clear
Unlatching the transparent one requires just one key
Upon our lifelong search for it we stumble endlessly
As we approach, the Locksmith surely forges newer paths
On which the weight of memories lie that signify our past
We must repurpose these narratives we adopt to self-deceive
Into a deftly sewn together robe of equanimity
This peace of mind that cloaks a vessel born of dirt and clay
Will dissolve the first two windows, allowing perfect peace to reign
Only then will human fragments once called yours and mine
Come together as one body, perfect and divine
As united we once were, before we came to be
United we will come again, without a missing piece
Furthermore, becoming whole is just another step
Along the path some thought, as fools, ended with our death
At some distant point, far away, eternity draws close
The problem of that holy gate, we dare not diagnose
As the secrets within that point lie in between the panes
That constitute the third window embedded in the brain
Do not concern yourself at all with what is in the glass
As all will become made aware before the final task
Instead concern yourself with life, our one and only gift
Apply the Golden Rule with faith and strive to know
The Smith
Copyright © Brandon Glasgo | Year Posted 2023
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