Window

 What is this window to an upper room?

Old, burning bright, a glimpse of memory.

It unfolds in the charm, grace of the curve.

Solder on color flowing, binding, smells

Ancient and old surround it, within it.

What story would this window tell?

Would it ring of adventure, chances taken?

Or would it tell of safety and not risking?

This is not our faith, it was built on the crazy

Notion of risking everything to gain life.

Now it is dead because it is safe, stagnant.

Ring out the call to risk, to hear once again

It is not in preserving life that we find it.