The Sun Will Shine On Your Face
Suspended improbably on shoulders
Hunched by years of glacial attrition
And threaded through a forest of boulders:
The path that holds the key to my mission
I speak allegorically, because
This tortured path has ne’er been seen before
And every rock is a problem that was
And every chasm is an open sore
Each footstep will demand its pound of pain
The raven keeps score of the promises
But I will endure until I unchain
The bright drops from the dark cloud’s surfaces
And refract the light from the Sun, to send
To the Heart of Gold at the Rainbow’s end ~
Copyright © Nigel Fawcett | Year Posted 2008
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