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The Weary Road

The valley before me is cloaked in stygian black,
the path down a narrow stony trace for all it lacks.
Here and there gleams the reds of hellish fire’s glow,
all that illuminates my way, the only path I can go.

I step forth, my path must be traveled in this life,
though I will struggle with the sear of pain and strife.
Crying out in my pain, I advance, for that is my way,
a stubborn soul who must see the other side so fey.

I scream out in my pain, awakening to life’s true burn,
and crossing the valley, step by step, each in its turn.
I weep for respite, I cry for relief, I beg for peace so,
and still I stubborn go, burning in the heat of life as I go.

Promises made, and broken in my weakness, still I move,
unable to stop and fail, believing the promises of the Dove.
Words, just words, engraved in my aching soul, so worn,
holding me upright as I slowly walk this landscape so torn.

Oh let me find peace, let the coolness envelope me at last,
vanish this pain, that I might find it all a dream now past.
Scoured, scarred, and stained by life, I seek that to be found,
there, on the other side of this dark valley, on Holy Ground.

Bowed with my burden, I k now my utter worthlessness,
yet I will be welcomed, renewed with love’s forgiveness.
My tears will water the gardens that will surround me then,
so one foot before the other, all I can do, over and over again.