I’m on my own road,

walking, muttering dark words.

Haven’t you heard?

The worst has happened.

Hope is lost.

But then a traveler comes alongside,

puts himself in step with me.

His feet are dusty, too.

Something in me unfolds like paper

that was wadded up tight.

A spark snaps out of the flint of his words.

Smoldering begins from the dry kindling in my soul.

A flame spurts, catches, surges.

I look again, a little in awe, and

I see:

It’s You.