The Lord created all things good, and we
Created monsters, metaphors of life
Now marred and mangled. In their eyes we see
Extremities of loss and waste and strife.
We know our state, our status, and we feel
The curse unyielding, so we turn our tales
To terror and temptation, to what’s real,
To time within this dark and tear-filled vale.
But in the foul creations, we perceive
A purpose buried, still more real and true.
Beneath the vilest horrors, we believe,
Lies hope that what is lost can be renewed.
For death is not the final word, and night
Will always break before the dawning light.

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Photo by Enguerrand Blanchy on Unsplash