Light of Faith

Standing on the pinnacle alone and afraid
Nowhere to go but down
Detained by winter’s frigid, gnarled hands
Faith retreats as night asserts its influence

The decree is to give in, to be one of them
Faithfulness the expense of the fray
Despair has taken the high ground
Desolation will fight for his space

The husbandman prunes with purposeful intent
The vine weeps in anguish as branches
Join the burning bramble
Others are cut back to fortify the vine

The vine must grow at any cost
Even the demise of the vine is not too great a price
The vinedresser’s hands restore with gentle ease
Reviving faith in the midst of despondency and malice

Daylight’s brightness a harsh reminder of nighttime’s place
Nighttime withers under the brilliant light
Darkness a slave to the light, bowing to the master
Reconciliation the goal since inception

Standing on the pinnacle embraced by the day
Stable, steady, unyielding
Supported by firm, gentle hands
Faith affirms as the night hides away