There is an ironic truth to the light
It never disappears
It never grows dim
However, sometimes our vision is obstructed
By tragedies, storms, distractions—life
And our stance, once strong and confident,
Grows weary and droops in despair.
When the winds start to blow,
We squint our eyes,
And try to find our way.
The light fades.
When you are encompassed by darkness,
The light is still there.
Open your eyes.
Look up.
See, the light never left.