Rising in vibrant streaks,

A rush of color bursts into the room,

Filling it with warmth, light and love.

Suddenly there are no shadows,

Only clarity.

 

And I see with my heart for the first time.

 

Strangely wonderful, all the pieces place themselves precisely where intended,

Fitting together like warm gloves on a cold winter’s day.

Some of the same color, yet different in tone,

Reflecting light in a peculiar and unique way,

Making the picture of my journey complete.

 

These are not static, even the snap of the shutter cannot contain them.

Spreading their light in shards,

Each containing the divine spark of a life touching mine,

And a trail of personality now etched in my own,

Forever.

 

Sometimes, I remember.

I remember what it was like before I spoiled the view,

Removed the plants,

Took out the asphalt,

And painted the picture of industry in my city.

 

When I do, remember that is,

I can make the other occur,

A return to nature,

I try and make it happen like it was,

And send it back in time.

 

To the way the gardener intended.