Everything's Porcelain

 

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Chapter 1

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a baker on his way to work noticed; couldn't get the image of this shattering sky out of his mind as he later kneaded dough. He perspired, yet tears not sweat intermingled with the future bread. 

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and an artist on her way to the park to paint noticed, she paused and froze in shock feeling her heart break within, yet decided to paint this very image of the cracking dawn. It would be her obra maestra, masterpiece from the hands of fate.

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a musician on his way to practice noticed, he saw the crystal clear mountains crumbling, and thought he was dreaming, no it's the end. He said, I'll write a song about what I've seen; and did.

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a poet on her way to the garden noticed, she saw the dew on the shattering, red roses, the bark on the breaking tree, and felt more alive than she'd ever been. she walked barefoot on the damp earth and breathed.

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a child on her way to school noticed, when she stepped over the cracking sidewalk like ice beneath her in the crisp winter wind.

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and Jesus on His way to earth noticed. He didn't try to repair the shattering sky, the cracking dawn, the mountains crumbling, the shattering roses, the breaking trees, the cracking sidewalks like ice, instead He slept in a boat on the sea of heaven and dreamt with a caterpillar sleeping on a rose becoming a butterfly, kissed the cross, and wept thinking of His beloved souls the ones He shed His blood for two thousand years before. 

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a potter on his way to work noticed, This world is made of porcelain, he said. So right to be so, he went on. In the light of the sun, like when I hold this porcelain dish up, you can see through the glass: the hand behind it.

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a swimmer on her way to the pool noticed, and realized the world was leaking from the cracks in the clouds, and gave thanks for her life, water, and couldn't wait to swim while gawking at the endless summer sky leaking drops of rain

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and an actor on his way to a set noticed, and he tried to protect himself from the paparazzi's cracking cameras to no avail.

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and what the world calls "prostitute" on her way home from dirty caresses noticed, and wept walking as the stranger whom she had just slept with rolled up his cracked car window. 

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a politician on his way to the white house took note. 

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a terrorist on his way to attack noticed, but gloated over his seeming accomplishments.

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a priest on his way to give Mass noticed and realized that people (including himself) were shattering walking pieces of glass - either cracking, broken, or in the furnace of God's love being tested.

The world is made of glass. Yesterday morning cracks began to form... and a preacher on his way to write a sermon noticed and gave thanks and said Hallelujah, I can hear the footsteps of He who was, and is, and is to come! Jesus is returning...and then the world will no longer be made of glass, for then it will be completely scattered, and the pieces will be picked up by the holy souls converted to His love and light. The cracks that began to form yesterday, no longer cracks, but repaired by the Divine Potter. Sealed in His blood. Kissed away by His sacrifice. A new day would have come. 

Who knows what happened to that glassy world?

The baker, the artist, the musician, the poet, the child, the potter, the swimmer, the actor, the "prostitute," the politician, the terrorist, the priest, and the preacher wondered as the world softened like a bread in God's tender hands.

 

 

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Christine Larsen

Lovely words Estefani... directly from the heart and soul, obviously.

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Thank you so much Christine for taking the time to read and comment! :) And I did try to write from the heart and soul! Thanks, once again.
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