I am a construct made of glass and strings- a bizarre assemblage of sharp and tinkling shards that resembles nothing so much as a broken pile beneath an empty window when there is no magic in me. But, in some mysterious way animated, I pull my own marionette strings, and awkwardly hoist myself from the floor- my form only becoming through great force of will. And my angles are hard and awkward and I threaten to cut my own strings at any moment through any movement. But unlike the frame that held me before I was, when I step into the light I shine like a beacon and multiply the light I receive many-fold and shed it into the darkness around me. I am gentle but radiant and I shatter when I fall, but the new fragments remain joined to me and when I pull my strings to rise again I am more infinitely faceted than before and I only need a place to stand in order to shine with the light of god.