In so much darkness, there is light
and shadows cannot overwhelm
As children we weep in the corners of our pain,
hoping desperately that there might be one who reaches
For we know we have fallen hard and fallen far
But is there something to hope for?
That is the question we spin in our minds
Might we choose to breathe deep enough
to realize that our lungs can hold more
than the shallow inhales we make
Might we trust there to be more to life than what lies before us
and to be more to soak in than what we figured we'd quenched?
But when optimism tastes flagrantly trivial
how do we possibly take our next steps?
For, you see, we do not believe that our legs still work
Our minds explore the endless possibilities of theory
and yet, when we come down from the clouds
we cannot discern who neighbor is
We see only us, for our world is so painfully highlighting within us
that which does not feel right
To put trust in something believed corrupt only heaps more weight
upon our shoulders already burdened
Is there rescue?
For the one who settles too easily, thinks too lofty, feels too freely, loves too skeptically, believes too blindly, is there rescue?
Is there really light in those places, in those hearts?
Do we care to reach there or are there areas not even we shall touch?