Fathoms

A night of woe,
Spreads a heavy drape:
A harbinger - a prelude;
A forecaster of shadow,
Yea, dark things loom
In the deep mists.
Amid the somber hues
Of time and sense,
There is a Garden,
And One who prays.
Faith embraces the
Mystery of Godliness;
Hope casts its anchor
Within the veil;
And Love gently lifts,
To His Eternal shores
Of wholeness.