Your damp feet rest on wet earth,

as the wind soaks the trees;

Moonlight's been a stranger

since you've risen from your knees.

So draw in cold breath,

and remember when it was that you began to see:

when you were aching, seeking, digging into grace —

always skinning your knees.

So enter again,

and move past wondrous sunrise warmth;

you must open your eyes, fully,

to see stars in the dark.

And fear not strange suffering,

for only through such can you know:

the gold that loss and leaving bring,

the good weight of a purified soul.