This time, praise is truly a sacrifice.
Sorrow is a sage.

So now I wait, I never dreamed I'd be here
as a sacrament to be raised and then broken,
it never having spoken
still swallows my only breath of hope- incinerating.
Words have never fallen so short,
hands raised in submission.
Still your sanctuary burns, still burning.

No one told me that this grief would feel so much like fear.
Tears without protest, a soul seeking solace.
She's dying to wake, but late is the day break.
Gasping and groaning, the silence breaks for seething.
I hear a small voice inside me say:
"Grace grows in winter",
how long to believe that it speaks the truth.
Is this not my lot- life.

All is not comprehensible and all is not beautiful,
however, all has meaning and all can create beauty.

Let me see the meaning in this,
let me find the beauty in this.
Life is learning.

What cannot break you can only be a catalyst for growth.

Creation groans for completion.
Truth wakes in understanding,
and the morning comes yielding peace,
oh how I long for this to be,
truth.