Fragile answers lay loosely scattered,
like after storm clouds where prayers slip
through and hope abounds.
Your voice of thoughts conquers the silence
with flavored aromas of gladness remembered.
You try to chart out tomorrow and fill in the blanks;
steady the course to find a way.
The linen of forgiveness is the line between
night and dawn. Releasing the pain allows you
to own the day. Refuse, and night takes hold.