Pain bowls blindly down the path of life,
Thrown by the hand of fate.
It crushes all within it’s way,
Leaves destruction in it’s wake.
It indiscriminately soldiers on,
Rain or hail or shine,
Not caring who, or what, or why,
Lies in the firing line.
Life and spirit lay squashed and broken,
Not understanding why,
They fell victim to this cruel force,
Left on the path to die.
But for those that pause and stop to look,
At what’s scattered on the ground –
A trail of sparkling hints of life –
There’s beauty to be found!
For whilst pain stamps across the world,
It leaves something behind.
It plants the seeds of love and hope,
And strengthens saddened minds.
For all the beauty and all that’s bright
Would lay buried underneath,
If pain had not just ploughed the soil,
To deliver our relief.
From great pain we reap great beauty,
One of life’s cruellest games.
And the greatest wonders of this world,
Are grown from the wrath of pain.
by Leanna Burnard – Sharpham August 2019
