What remains.

Beauty remains.

Hope remains.

Joy in this grey day.

Giddy sips of warm coffee.

Cozy resilience, making little efforts.

I can listen to Miss Marie Andrews, and 

know that true beauty will ascend struggle.

A fire burns away, leaving white ash, concealing sculpted glass,

That drips still a bit... 

I don't feel I see God in every moment, but sometimes, there are glimpses, and when they come, I will thank Him. The Truth is never tied up with threads of despair. Unravel my parts, and make sturdy spools of the things that will remain.