Strange things happen,
Some bitterly cruel
But some so beautiful that they
Refire the faith forever.



What is Life, what is its meaning?
Is life likened to that of a messenger,
Or a memorial for generations to remember?

I liken Life to both.

For our message is there,
Be it only a sentence or two in an epigraph
Or a novel, of which foretells many trials and tribulations.

And also a memorial, to remember the words of that message
And make sure that that message
Is not in darkness, but its meaning is there
Standing bright and gleaming in the noontime sun.

Who is our audience, what are they to know?
Are they to have an epiphany, to renew their faith
Or the sense of melancholy, the cold wind at their backs?

I liken them to both.

For they are to know that that Life was not in vain
For they know that Life’s message is there, and the herald
That sparks light with its voice is there.

But they know, that crowd, that the person is gone,
And they know that what they read is from the husk
Of the long since dead, whose ideals are now gone from
The fallen world.

What is our goal, what are we to do?
Are we to know Someone, Someone unknown to the world,
Or are we to be saved, and not despair?

I liken our goal to both.
For indeed that Person is who we need,
For He is the strength to send our message
And the one to bring our audience.

We are to be save, so that our memorial may be strong
And thus coming out from it, our very own faith
Rekindled and others along with.