hold his husk,
retain the rind of
who he’s always been.
But unless he sheds this shell,
this shroud, how will he walk away
from his tomb?
If you chose, you could dwell in midnight shade,
Covered in shadows, a shroud of despair;
The darkness would hide, your infirmities fade,
If you chose the safety of blackened lair.
But here in the sunshine, your beauty blooms,
Radiance spills from your vulnerable stance;
Reflecting Creator, created resumes,
Tripping the light fantastic in dance.