Attacked by fears of the unknown,
makes his hopes sink then turn to stone,
with every breath sorrows are shown,
all due to views others have thrown.
Insecure thoughts call on the phone,
no one to trust, always alone.
The dreams he has are failure prone,
depression felt, deep in his bones.
Inside his head he hears a tone,
transmitting sounds like microphones,
it puts him in a sacred zone,
then pushes him onto his throne.
Clears up his eyes, his mind is blown,
his body rests in a cyclone.
A sense of self suddenly known,
lands on his chest, wisdom has grown.
Opens the gates, feeling atoned
his old mistakes have been outgrown,
the time has come to not postpone,
a withered leaf, the past has flown.
Within a blink his faith is honed,
tomorrow’s joy instantly sewn,
the steps he takes his heart condones,
a bright path way to call his own.
– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy