My Glass house

Looking out through the glass walls, I keep my distance.  You see, the glass lets me observe life without getting my hands dirty.

Become a participant?  Oh, no.  Risk the safety of my glass sanctuary?  I couldn’t possibly!

I’ve built perfection here.  Everything in its place.  Everything as it should be.

Some people say that I must be lonely.  I have no time to be lonely.  Maintaining perfection keeps me busy.  I must tend to the Blue Bells next, for the rows are askew.

Later, I will lounge in my perfect straight-back chair and gaze through the perfect glass walls.  I will watch as you go about the messy business of life.  You love each other and hate each other.  You birth children and neglect them.  You give life and destroy it.

I have no need for such insanity.

I was like you, once.  I loved and had my heart broken.  I worked and toiled.  My children grew and turned away from me.  They have their own glass houses to build.

The stench of your evil does not penetrate my sanctuary.  I can safely observe what most would call life.

*I seem to be ever more aware of the passage of time and life not lived or time wasted.  I feel it slipping by me and I know I cannot slow its progress.  Depression was the thief that stole much of my life from me.  It shakes me to my core to realize that it took me this long to realize the precious jewel that is life. 

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson