Seasons Turn

As the seasons turn, I am worked in progress. In the summer I burn, refining in process. In the autumn I turn pale, and shed the dead. Then in the winter, I am frost bitten to my inner core. In the waiting for spring, I push hard for new beginnings. Through it all, I’m in a sphere of holiness, Which gives me the strength to run this race. Maybe this is for a better day yet to come, As I experience this pain and martyrdom. Lord, I know I’ll see Thee on the other side. What can I do to survive this terrain? Where is the renewal which releases my pain? Why won’t they change and rearrange this strain? Who can be there for me, when I’m all alone? Which wars will I win, and will they be known? I just can’t overcome these battles on my own. Where is my home, is it where I roam? Do I get some support, to hold up my fort? Can I have a friend, or am I to be a friend to all? Will I ever be reciprocated, so I can answer Thy call?