hourglass years erode our dust whirling into rottenness
when spirits learn to trust, they're armored whole with righteousness
attend the suffering hearts, seeking, we are not alone
childlike, our simplicity, until our hearts turned to stone
drifted by our wastefulness, a reason for us to mourn
the heart is remade by trust, yet still, so much needs reborn
true, the angel conflict won that certifies permanence
surer than the setting sun, more profound than shifting sense
discover we can fly with spirit-wings and fiery breath
looking to the wooden beam that reversed the cause of death

© Brian Hodgkinson Jr. (aka) Limericist 2021