I see the hurting version of you,
A different version of purity.
Walking paths covered in dew.
Your flesh thorned and speared by love.
Your entire existence shadowed by pain.
I see the storms forming above.
Yet fear I see not in your eyes.
By the day you face the darkest of fears.
And the wait by night as the pain dries.
In you a ruthless Viking I see,
I see footprints all over this valley of tears.
Yet in the storms you stand like a pirate at sea.
Like healthy seed you will sprout,
Like the cedars of the west your roots will pass the test of time.
And like the palms of the east, you will rise high above.
And when the clocks of men finally stop ticking,
This version of you will bear witness to an everlasting happiness.
HOPE, A poem by Solomon