A Failure in Perspective

My soul thirsts and my hands beg
To be allowed to create something –
Something strong, something transcendent,
Something for His glory and something
To make this unsure earth more beautiful.
Eagerly my hands reach out, curiously
Brush over His awe-inspiring creation.
It shatters under my touch.
I watch in still and petrified amazement
As individual, lethal shards of delicate,
Sparkling glass shimmer to the floor
And come to rest at my feet.
Moments after, more glistening gems
Of failure fall before me: my tears.
A sharp pain bouncing through my fingers
Reminds me that I exist still, even
In a state of shame.
I lift my fingers, see lines of hot, red blood
Seeping up from what once was whole.
Quietly I watch them, watch them gently
Fall and slap the ground in despair.
Before me once was the art of God,
Now before me rests my failure,
My shame, my pain, my blood.
I broke it.
No matter how hard I tried.
It shattered under my touch.
Suddenly I realize that beneath me
Lies the glass and blood, and the ground
Is solid beneath all of me.
I close my eyes.