Unforgotten Grace

The darkness cannot find you, not in the wind

It was just something, a thing I needed to believe

Once, but it was more frequent than a single tome

Daily, destitute journeys in search of a quite peace

And as I recollect, I tremble now, much removed

For serenity has no hold in the cacophony of pain

Imagine, as best as I can define, a chronic distortion

Of time, the senses--In every breath that you exhale

A man learns quickly that respiration, while vital

It can never constitute being alive, no not exactly

Existence, is easily the worst state of human capacity

Longingly waiting for the bus ride to reach its end

Certain respite, from an ailment inconceivably miffed

Storms I know—and all a man ever harnessed before

Grace, a word which found me hiding inside the void

Too frightened to capitulate, Far more weary to run

There is no answer, for lying awake on a frosty couch

Rancor, it clung about my spirit, and darkness danced

All at once what saved me, had always been my fall

Run child, into open fields, the wind is promised you

Only if you hurry, for faith not waits on contemplation

Calculation demerits a saving hand, and freedom withers

Be sure though, no man escapes a lifetime on will alone

One step, and one day, then another, and still some more

Choosing actively to erase a passive past, without sight

But for the hand of a face I have never seen, I remain

Lost, out in the outlands—dead before a vile, raging Sea

Instead, four summers now, I have chased a calling voice

My truth, light and way are all encompassed—in one place