crinkled lines across a wearied face
telling stories from a distant year,
dark shadows escape without a trace
yet the price they leave becomes quite dear.
cruel wounds that scar are left behind
colour tapestry of weave and darn,
deep down inside is left unrefined
yet the pain reminds and tells a yarn.
harsh dismissed as the easy is sought
distractions blind curse we all employ,
shades of truth embraced without much thought
yet the shame remains and hides the joy...
whipped lines on Christ's back, restores real sight
telling a story from a distant year,
dark shadows removed within His light
as life's true meaning becomes quite clear.