When the clouds part
Where will it carry us,
this fragile hour we are living in
this trembling breath of fear?
Is there still a future
beyond the shadow of this moment,
or will tomorrow’s world
slip quietly into silence?
I think not,
for the heart’s hunger for life
still beats its steady drum,
still plants seeds of hope
in the soil of our despair.
And though the air is thick
with confusion and sorrow,
there will come a dawn
when the dark clouds
that now press low upon us
will loosen their grip,
and the sun,
gentle, golden, unafraid,
will spill her warm light
across the earth,
restoring to the weary
the courage to live,
and to the fearful
the will to dream again.
Time will, in its quiet way,
outlast the fear and sorrow
that wrap themselves around us.
Your spring has folded into memory.
Your summers have drifted past.
Autumn has bowed its head in parting.
Now winter’s cold breath
lingers at your neck,
and the seasons fade,
one by one, into stillness.
Yet when you wake each day,
do not wish it away,
life is already too brief.
The sun does not shine
without pause,
yet even the greyest of day
is a gift placed in your hands.
For none can tell
when a sudden wind will rise.
life offers no promises,
only moments.
So, give thanks for each one.
Live deeply.
Love without measure.
Play as though the hour is eternal.
And weave your days
into memories
that will not fade with time
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