Darkened Glass No More

“Toiled in obscurity,” we say,
The gifted soul with voice beyond herself
Consigned to never known.

Or some such.

“The joys come later on,” we say,
Never knowing all we say, and yet all
at once too little, too much.

We know not.

“Our God sees everything,” we say.
Obscurity is an unmeaning fraud,
Masquerades as great loss.

Life libel.

“The work is all the thing,” we say
Meaning love, for what else fills all things and
makes them ever last?

Love is all.

“The toil, the joy is God,” we'll say
When faith and hope absolve the darkened glass
And love makes real, time gone.