Stained Glass Portal
 

A silken silvren shimmering sheen
Above the liquid living green
Where wind-thorns toss and frost-ferns lean
And owls and hares in sport careen.
The moon beam spills upon the scene.
The torches flash a golden mean.
The smoke-gray fox has whelps to wean.
And through the mist a rose is seen.

 

A tailor sews a silver seam.
His thread is made of light and dream.
His needle pours like freshest cream.
And from its eye soft colors stream.
A sword is raised against the rose.
A tapestry of cruelest snows
Then blankets lands that no one knows.
Across the sea a dark wind blows.

 
 

But hope is stronger than the chill.
The rose in faith sends forth her will.
The blade is split; the wind is still.
With fiery stars the valleys fill.
The tailor dances in delight.
The rose has shattered endless night.
Her love has banished hate and fright.
The dawn of dawns now comes in sight,
A glory—holy, pure and bright!

 

 

Copyright 2005 by Robert E. Romanelli