The
feelings you hold inside produce a storm
That
rages daily without relief,
Even
as the shadows and drizzling rain
Replace
your pain with soothing melancholy.
I
see your pain, feel your despair quickly replaced
By
hope, then crashing back to its well-known abyss.
Sometimes
my optimism seems like a curse,
When
I want to take all your pain, bitterness and worry and
Consume
it like a cancer with no regard for my life.
But
I know that is not what you want,
Your
loving and calm spirit wishes only for a relief from the darkness,
Not
to drag others into your painful reality.
If
love could cure the pain, I would heap it on you like soothing coals to
Burn
away the scars, or like a blanket to cover you with the warmth of hope.
I
will stand with you, strengthen you, carry your burden and
Retain
the book of confidence for you, to read you bedtime stories
Of
a little boy who crossed a great chasm,
Who
fought dragons of internal despair and self-doubt,
And
who emerged victorious at the end of your perilous journey
With
an unbelieving backward gaze at all you have conquered.
I
cannot write the story of triumph for you, but
I
will always be there to carry your burden and read you the
Adventures
of your life as you, in undying confidence and strength,
Write
the next chapter.