Bursting in Glory
by Christian Martinez
At winter’s darkest, coldest hour
the world is a sea of white.
Remnants of life and delight shattered
by the blinding rays of Heaven’s light.
The spine shivers to its core
the soul bequeathed by an enduring agony.
The Father wails through bitter wind
in pain of His child’s self-damned story.
With great intent and opportunity
the hooded figure glares at The Dream with sincerity.
Yet amidst the Quarrel of the Wills
the spirit soars triumphant.
The morning dawns and with it brings
humanity’s hope in fate and faith;
since given one last hope in victory
to battle he goes without fear.
The air is ripe for dew to seep
Despite autumn’s lashing of leaf and bark.
But should death rise with great frustration
the dew yet fights with incessant conviction.
The result bears witnessing, nothing short of a miracle.
All stand in awe and majesty.
The trees painted by angels’ wings,
the streets a forest in Wonderland.
Though sleep and despair dost struggle to claim
the soul sings triumphant with joy -
because through the troubles of it all
the dew stands victorious.
At winter’s darkest, coldest hour
the world is a sea of white.
As the soul stares at demise, in the eyes
never forget that the dew stands bursting in glory.
