Broken vessel…
Lying in pieces…
No one to pick you up…
No one to hear you cry…
Stepping over the shattered, broken, vessel walks a passerby.
Never sees the pain or distress, upon your battered face…
Desperate for mending; just a touch of human grace…
But that would be too much to ask, from a solitary life…
No time for that; we all must wear, the hidden, faithless, mask…
Not knowing who; that bends to make the mends…
A hand reaches out; He does not demand…
He takes the broken pieces, rearranges them His way…
Now all the broken pieces are put together again…
New vessel standing strong and true…
The master, creator, did this for you…
Old things are passed away…
Behold!
All things, become, brand new!
Behold!
All things, become, brand new!
By: Marla Shaw O’Neill December 2, 2015©
Inspired by my good friend/sister Charisse Sheppard
