May the light grow ever stronger
Coming over the mountains at dawn
To break the storm that had been raging
And is unwilling to move on.
With much of its furry in its past
and its greatest devastation
in its wake, it faltered, weakened
by the redemption of the rising sun.
“It’s almost over now.” He whispered
Into the breeze that softly drove out
The clouds and dispersed their strength
Into the valley and there tightly bound
Their ferocious voices once united
In thunder as it split across the expanse
Of the night and shook the earth and sky
like music for an other worldly dance
Before it ran out of breath and surrendered,
My Father looked at me and smiled,
“You’ll get back the years you fear
I’ve stolen by the tempest you reviled.
The way isn’t much longer and though
there’s a feeling you won’t make it,
you’re almost there, and with the sunrise know
You’re not forgotten or forsaken.”
May the cool summer wind blow
Away the chaff and broken storm’s
Remains and fill us with hope renewed
Rested within his breath and upon the warmth
That can only come from the light of day
And the touch of grace given in the midst
Of the greatest trials and raging torrents
That reveal the truth to us, which is:
You are not alone.
You are not forgotten.
You’re almost there.
It’s almost over now.