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Our Lady of Broken Glass

Once there was Truth, my lady,
Crystal-pure and diamond-dense,
Clear and faceted, mirror and lens
And it showed you you and it showed you me
Until it flew apart, like the universe beginning.
(It never was, my lady, it never was)

We pick up shards with bleeding hands,
Cut each other with them like knives,
This truth must fall so another thrives,
Saw borders into the thought-lands,
As if to mend the wreck by winning.
(But it never was, my lady, it never was)

If only by some strained contortion,
We could see the shape of the mosaic
That will make a whole of every break,
Setting each fragment in true proportion
The image of our mother unbroken
(But it never was, my lady, it never was)

The light goes through each glassy blade
But distortion makes the image a lie
Though born of truth that cannot die.
So it must be till the whole is made—
The whole of which each piece is token
(Though it never was, my lady, it never was)

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