Then the Glass-maker smiled,
His fingers caressed the intricate design of the Wine-glass
in his palm
His chest swelled with pride
for the Glass’s every detail showed his skill
He had made many
Each with a unique mold
Passion in many tangible forms
The Glass-maker placed the Wine-glass
on his table
He loved to polish it and fill it
with the rarest of wines
Then one day a small boy visited the Glass-maker
The boy was rough and spiteful
He was handsome and cruel
And his very breath reeked of hatred
bellow the sugary surface-smell of mints
He derived a twisted sense of pleasure
from broken glass
And the Wine-glass fell
shattered into beautiful little shards
Destroyed
But love out-powers hate
And rescue comes
to those who listen
and those who find faith
in Him
Many hands are cut by broken glass
But the Glass-maker picked up
every shard
Then the Glass was refined with fire
And the Glass-maker’s blood mixed
with the Glass as it was melted
For the time had come that
the Broken-glass
should cease to be what was broken
and become what was made new
A new creation
As pure as a virgin
Clothed in red
Not by ignorance but grace
Its value given
by the Glass-maker
Purchased at the price of blood
© Cheron L’Estrange
***
GRADE 9
***
