The deserted hopes, dead and buried.
The ever crawling darkness, lingering,
To find a place in something ‘surrendered’,
Wheat’s the meaning of it all, I wonder.
Each time I let go the vulnerability kicks in
More room for sin, than I can imagine!
What’s the meaning of love and hurt?
Don’t let it bud, kick it to the curb!
Wandering abandoned from one place to another,
Unsure of how long I can run away further.
“Bring me back to life!” the soul cries out,
But it’s like an unquenchable thirst in the drought.
Will I ever find a place call ‘home’?
Will I ever find a hope to lean on?
Will that ray of light shine through darkness someday?
“Shun it, mute it, keep that thought at bay!”
Rebecca Banwar
sheerepiphany 
This Easter, may your hope not be dusted.
Because this is the day our hope became alive!
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