Meanwhile, Melody Muses…

In your smoky orb I spy

Reflections of a broken heart;

Pieces of a scattered I,

Remnants of an enemy dart.

Rainy tears have marked your frame,

Rust and imperfections rule;

My reflection is the same,

I am marred by actions cruel.

But if I will closer peer,

I can see your beauty still;

Yes, I see the hand of fear,

But, too, I see an iron will.

If in your pock-marked visage lies

Potential greatness here on earth –

I, whose scars are God’s own prize,

See in you my own true worth.