Your path may be painted in silhouettes and rubble

the aftermath of the blast

when pain, like a burning needle burst through your comfortable bubble

and into the wild plains of sorrow you were cast

like a prodigal

clutching memories of everything you lost

just because its all you know

as your parched lips breathe a whisper, a prayer for rest

for the hope still flickering in a candle glow

you are blessed with the task

of abiding in a stillness that you never knew

the tremendous cost

of sacrificing your past to something far beyond you

the power that guides the stars in their wanderlust

the ancient word, revealing the only course that can be true

through the turmoil of an earth cursed with darkness and dust

as you realize the creator of all things is also watching over you

and humbled, you can only replace your fear with trust

with a burning faith, in the fire that makes all things new