I found a window on a hill
It was broken but it still
Shone for all the world to see
Little pieces of who it used to be
Next to that window stood its frame
Bent and broken, scarred and shamed
It used to hold the clearest glass
For to the world to see
But once again lost in the past
Struggling to perceive
Around them both grew wildflowers
Up through the gloom and scarlet hours
Through the pains and through the pieces
Of a crushed and broken dream
Then came I upon that hill
And stopped and wondered until
The air grew heavy with that scent
Of wildflowers and peaceful rest
When the air grew dim
And the stars above shone down
Those pieces still reflected even when upon the ground
So could my heart when it grew grim
And upon my lips there came a hymn
And once again tonight I wonder
To who my piece will next reflect
If it will within them grow a fonder
Dream of one not broken yet.
For broken they do not have to be.
