a poem: the stone the builders rejected

WHEN I was young, I strove my heart to harden
to guard a rose within a sacred garden
a cage of steel and stones had I erected
yet without remained one stone that I rejected.
now that on the road my steps have stumbled
now that all my barricades are crumbled
the forgotten stone is at the center
and now nothing’s left that cannot enter.
the stone is wrought of crystal glass
so all the world’s light can through it pass
the stone is made of clouds and falling rain
whose droplets fall as tears of grief and pain
the corner stone is wrought of dancing air
and biting wind that quickens all my care
the stone is made of flames of glowing love
that that joins the Earth below and Sky above
for now I see, and as I see I know
an eye has become each perforation
I gain by loss and by self-ablation
for a heart that most by love is bleeding
is a heart that most with love is beating
the dyer’s hands are stained by trade
so by trial too the soul is made
again I cast myself into my plight
till my soul is dyed in rays of light

Photo by Robin S on Unsplash