What comes with love cannot be cried in silence,
Though bitter, broken, lost along the way.
Thin and slight, the angers falls in slowly,
Like rain upon a heart already gray.

So long, and then the darkness seems to call you,
To fall into its open, rugged hand.
What once was kind is now a dim reminder,
Of faith when it was easier to stand.

Don't look around; the world's already turning.
Don't stop to take a hand that leaves you cold.
For life, in all its emptiness and sadness,
Will strip away new mornings from the old.

Still hope will fill the nighttime with collisions,
Of thought and sound and dreams of sweet relief,
And words in waning hours of the daylight,
Will bring with them a shower of belief.