When you are not ready and the moment is not right,
You reach for something steady, something out of sight.
You really cannot see it; it’s just barely out of reach,
A shape without an image, a trust that will not breach.

The dark begins to wither where the feelings never end,
Every road feels tethered, every stranger called a friend.
You harbor with the silence, you measure all the loss,
Counting all the reasons you have risen and the cost.

Your hands are full of burden, so heavy in the rain,
Every breath is hardened, every choice carries blame.
The things you thought would save you do not call you in,
And even standing upright feels exactly like a sin.

Still, something in the masses refuses to let go,
A flicker in the evening, a spark you didn’t know.
It waits there for you, tiredly respiring in the mist,
Soft as morning finding dawn, and still the walls exist.

You break them down and brush them off
With all the might you have;
There’s something deep within yourself
You didn’t know you had.

It clears the path in front of you; the spark becomes a flame.
The dark is no longer vast and cold; it doesn’t feel in vain.
The light shines bright before your eyes:
You’ve made it home again.