his own path / by Tenley Garrett

For that which makes us tremble, makes us fumble,
Is the same that we must face, with eyes lifted,
For each must trod his own path, though crumbled,
While he stands and sees the others slip away, sifted
Through the hands of an unequal fate.

Just as the birds escape the flood, unscathed
So our enemies are elated by a blessed course
And granted passage onto simpler roads, paved
With gold, and embellished with crimson rose.

As we steady our hearts and calm our minds
We shall grasp our burdens, many and hidden,
And in our contempt, loosen our binds;
Never are we forsaken or from goodness forbidden.

May your eyes see the clouds and your heart see the sun,
May you tremble and fumble but never be lost,
For with fear lost and hope gained you eventually won,
So now measure the wonders and count not the cost.