Poem: When the Lotus Breaks the Frost

Through the long course of history,
We’ve seen many such fall
But none quite as these souls,
With stain of sin not at all

And I hope in my life,
That the work of my hands
Might allow at least a few,
Not to fall, but to stand

Yet as I say these words,
My works are too few
And at once true compassion is to me
A feeling too new

For through the length of my years,
Mostly I’ve done what has been for myself
Save these last few,
Where at least in some measure – I shared the wealth

But these noble souls,
Afflicted much as they are
How can I stand beside them,
Without the pains of their scars

But as I yet live,
And can still shed a tear
I shall approach each day and each hour
Without pallor of fear

And true as I know,
Having faith in my mind that I save
That no ignoble soul ever,
Shall be far from the grave

I shall not stay my hand,
Till I’ve torn down its red wall
Lest I betray the memory
Of those I’ve seen fall

But I know as sure as I know
That I draw my own breath
That who stands against this True Light
Shall be on the knell of his death

And on the day Spring shall come,
Shall not be heard even, the sound of a drum
But the glorious beauty –
Holding each soul transfixed, overcome

So I shall mark this Winter with much mourning,
And sorrow for all – the lives that were lost
But hope and pray on the morrow
When the Lotus breaks the frost