Weather

It’s foggy in London tonight
And the spires of cathedrals are shrouded from sight
The trucks are all stalling and the children all calling
For their Father who seems to be gone.

It’s twilight in cratered Berlin
And out come the stars, stirring up hope once again.
The Father’s big smile cracks the chains of Belial
And the cross and the tomb come to life.

The fog of the day and the clear of twilight
Are just metaphors of a little child’s fight
Against the doubts and the tears and unwarranted cheers
And the thought he could ever be content
With anything less.

It’s raining in Old Orchard Park
Another blesséd day of life in the dank and the dark
Though the weather is contrary, at least its only temporary,
Because sunny is the weather of my home.

And the fog and the rain and the sun and twilight
Are just metaphors of a little child’s fight
Against the doubts and the tears and unwarranted cheers
And the thought He could ever be content
With anything less.

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