It is months, brother.
Months we’ve been at this.
Nigh on a year even.
And are we any closer?
We have searched
every nook, every dark corner,
only there’s no way out.
Indeed, brother, the search
is long, arduous, and yet
even now there appears
in the distance a pure white light
that may be our salvation.
Lead on, brother
and I shall be fast behind.
For have I ever left your side
throughout our long travail?
Push on. We shall yet be free.
Only, Jesus, the light it blinds.
And the hands that draw us
from the darkness, while oh so cold,
seem also to welcome and nurture,
as though searching, brother,
searching for us all along.