Weeping Windows

Weeping Windows 

Existence saunters in the frost, 

growing spires on the edge of glass, 

it mists upon a window pane, 

and builds its perfect mass. 

As winter’s breath does fill the air, 

a microlithic world is born, 

its grasping hold does sudden flair, 

with diamonds that adorn. 

Virtues revealed in the storm, 

in weathers plan through shining light, 

it crests and glitters uniform, 

and peaks at darkest night. 

In waiting for the sun to rise, 

to evolve another day, 

foundations start to crystalize, 

and crown their fine array. 

Divine existence comes to shine, 

casts its brilliance across with flame, 

where weeping sculptures then recline, 

to diminish from whence they came. 

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2nd Edit Oct 25, 2020

About this Poem: Have you ever watched a window frost over during the course of the day and see its eventual masterpiece, only to see it melt out of existence by the warmth of a new day? In life, we also experience storms and are formed by the weather; only to have our hardened edge melt over time by a spiritual awakening that guides us back to where we came. *wink*