The Quiet Hour

Weary and spent,

my legs refuse to carry me

further. Off-path for an eternity,

all I see is barrenness.

I am utterly lost.

Even the night skies offer

little solace. With eyes turned

inward, I delve into the quiet

of my heart, seeking the reflection

of stars within my soul.

In that moment

of reflection, a gentle breeze

carries a message, a still,

small voice softly whispering,

“Come back to Me.”

I shed that skin long ago.

Clothed in sackcloth, I wander

the wilderness, my compass

no longer pointing toward

redemption's hopeful glow.

"Reach for the lights,"

the voice breathes softly.

How can I find these beacons,

when they're obscured

by the shadow of my humanity?

"Look beyond this world,

past the gray haze

of billowing clouds,

for the stars still shine

on these stormy nights."