A Green Glass Vessel
When I was born I was gifted a fragile vessel, green glass, thin-walled and shot through with webs and bubbles that reflected and refracted everything that touched upon it. It seemed to hold great promise. But as all such things brought forth in hope and dreams, it was subject to cbjects.
It weathered storms that sent it crashing to the ground to burst into a thousand star-struck pieces, then reassembled, as best that caring hands could muster, fitting jagged piece to piece as if no perfect template remained. The glassy webs gave rise to new and often odd, intersecting points where stress was apt to break apart the vessel’s form. It was no longer the same, but perhaps good enough so that no one took notice.
The glass was asked to carry many different things; liquids, sands and stones of many colours. It held them to its evolving shape, encompassed the riot swirling within, then spilled them as each careless nudge or conscious blow upset the balance that held all things in place. Each effort to reassemble left its mark reshaped the form of what was held inside.
It survived until it did not. The vessel’s promise held mostly true and while its failures were spectacular, proved not to be as catastrophic as might have been. Collateral damage was slight, a small but notable blessing. Other vessels ended up as glassy shards on wave-swept beaches round the world, no hint of the shape they once took on.
I count my blessings.
I don’t believe this vessel, which I’ve held in trust for so long, can withstand another battering. Storms loom on the horizon. areless handling and the thoughtless touch of humankind. It was not deliberate abuse, but merely the common usage that attends all such o
Enough is enough.
To quote Sir Paul, “Let It Be”.