the morrow's sun is mine alone
from wreckage blooms what I will own
for what was born to kill the seed
has sharpened points of grace I need
cut me, I have long since bled
most weakness in me left for dead
my skin turned pale from all the loss
for years my back borne heavy cross
a cross of size and shape unknown
yet one I'm sure I have outgrown
but this I bear till He is done
and till I see my blessed sun
for I have yet a ways to go
roads and paths I've yet to know
faces I have yet to meet
softened smiles I've yet to greet
so forward is my pace of late
pushing on right through the gate
the gate that leads me to the door
with keys in hand for so much more
MAA~
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