There Will Come A Time

Into the mists of your mind you will find
A gorge dug by ages
From the disgrace of the unkind.
The walls rise up above barren land,
Cracked and deprived.
They lack a gentle hand.
The sun never falls on the land and these walls.
The darkness has settled
Until the grace of love calls.
Words of acceptance would feed the dry earth,
Bring warmth to the valley,
And bring forth fertile birth.
I am the sower of seeds for that love.
I call to the soil
With staff in hand, light above.
Desolation must pass for the growth to ensue.
Let go of the past.
There will be pain, true,
But there will come a time when hearts can unite,
With the pass of the past
And the burial of held spite.
Push forth the hands of the clock in your head.
Bury the martyr
And the past lies will lay dead.
Bring forth the spring and to the valley bring dawn.
The reaper brings harvest
Once the landscape's redrawn.