There is no darkness as rises with noon,
When spring winds blow gentle and clouds run free.
Yet the calm air slips out of reach too soon,
Leaving neither cold nor warmth within me.
Find me as ash among the pale lilies,
Naught but barren dust beyond the rain’s aid.
No light of hope shines toward my release,
From this prison of the heart my hands made.
My strength remains asleep, frozen in ice.
My soul whispers promise which must suffice.
Freedom and life come not with the wanting,
Steps must be made no matter how daunting.
Ever do the heavens extend a hand,
Mine to take if I were willing to stand.
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