From the glorious inferno, a supercooled liquid . . .
Glass Passages
Strange enough that someone saw at hand,
amid a million million grains of sand,
the only water truly born of fire–
that clarity, deep brilliant light and flow,
refractory and sharp and sweet, desire
that stops in time complete and whole, as though
to freeze all thought and memory and time–
and then took flame to capture its sublime
pure rectitude and stillness; who could know
the alchemy that could and would be wrought
by taming elements to strengthen, stain
and shape anew the crystal, blazing hot
sand silicates and yet somehow retain
such potency, such power that a strand
of history would through it then be drawn
to tell the stories, made so much more grand
in glass by tying evening back to dawn,
and in the light transmitted through that glass,
commemorate the ages as they pass.
Sources of inspiration can appear even in places where simple and ordinary beings are able to find them. Sometimes it just takes a particular window--or even a mirror--to make it possible . . .
Art-Colored Glasses 
that was glorious.. glass is absolutely and anciently fascinating ( I know that there are a series of grammatical errors there but you know what i mean).. and may i say that i LOVE and Covet your header pic.. c
Thank you so much, C. Grammar, as far as I’m concerned, is just one of the tools for making ourselves better understood, and you are perfectly clear, so obviously your grammar is just right.
Glad you like the photo; it’s a closeup of the ‘works’ on a beautiful antique string bass. The musician played it exquisitely, but I confess I was equally in love with the gorgeous age and craftsmanship of the instrument itself.
Kathryn
Well written. I’m looking forward to more.
Sir Bard: I’m approaching the start of another poem-a-day project and will hope to post some new stuff. In the meantime, I’m glad you liked this one–and yes, I did write it today, so I guess it qualifies as pretty freshly hatched.
Kathryn