Nothing Remains the Same

The panel is dull, muted
The colors frozen, dead
But this state, condition is not permanent
For, at the breaking of the dawn,
Nothing remains the same.

The light slowly begins to spill out
Over the horizon, like rain trickling
down a flat, smooth incline
Ray by ray, stream by stream
the colors come alive
The hues begin to dance a dance
as old as the ages

The pulse of the vast image
Begins to throb, with a powerful
rhythym of life
A cadence of rebirth
With color so vibrant, so
filled
That none could ignore

Although a simple panel of colored,
stained glass
A life, a story, a design appears
Through the heat and energy of the light, the life
For, at the breaking of the dawn,
Nothing reamins the same.