Making All Things Right

These hands have carried burdens, too heavy to name aloud. Each step felt

like sinking sand beneath the weary cloud. I searched for solid footing

in shadows of longing deep. Just trying to keep breathing while promises I couldn't

keep. Then a whisper, soft and low, cut through the raging sound.

Not a shout from heaven, but grace upon the ground. You hold me

when my knees give way. Your truth is the dawn that breaks my night.

I stand not by what I can do. But by the power of making

all things right. Oh. No longer chasing victories that crumble