In the shadows of my soul,

where faith used to reside,

now exists on barren land,

as the flicker of light died.

Prayers I used to whisper,

now fall on deaf ears.

Like speaking to a starless sky;

no answers for my endless tears.

Doubt creeps in slowly.

My hope is lost to the grave.

Like a stranger’s face in the mirror,

I lose the words to say.

I walk through this darkness that never ceases.

My spirit grows old and frail.

Searching for the light I used to know;

like skin once beautiful, now pale.

Yet within this darkness, a seed remains.

It’s barely visible to the human eye.

It whispers hope to my dying soul,

“Even in the winter, seeds learn to survive.”

Perhaps this darkness is not the end.

Maybe, just maybe, the light will shine through.

What feels like the death of my faith,

might be the transformation of something new.