On the other side of the dust,
The gold lays untouched.
Beneath the tired, tumbled leaves
The earth itself still lives and breathes.
You’ve fought the tide for seasons now
Of wounds that came (though you weren’t sure how),
But do not be afraid.
His gentle hand displaces dust,
Proves there’s glory there that did not rust.
His gentle breathing scatters leaves,
Proves the beauty there you couldn’t see.
The gold still lays untouched.