Easter of Nineteen

Further still, into the pages
Then unwritten, now scripted bold
Though more revealed, less comprehended
As along twisted paths I blindly hold

Slow but steady the sand has left
Foundations sloped, with hole and crack
The burning rain tears through the trees
And smears the walls and windows black

Like a boat, without a skipper
Full throttle, paths uncharted paves
Pounded by surge and riding low
Missing rocks by chance of waves

Blank is now my compass card
Never twice a point the needle enjoyed
Already black, the light is failing
Dark not with presence but with void

Tightly I cling, alone and tired
Storm inside rivals the chaos out
Thinned lips and eyes set low and hard
Gazing on the fury all about

I doubt myself (countless times now)
And think my drifting as my doom
But now I think, the light unseen
Cannot be seen in lighted room

If from this silence life springs forth
And in this emptiness is weight
If in light is light not seen
Then patience must steel my soul in wait

Look not for light to save me now
To the deep unseen I set my mark
For maybe He is in the void
And I’ll find the light within the dark

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