When proverbial clouds part to display clear skies
and when the sun shines on one's eyes
there is a transition time during which one tries
to decide between clarity and the blinding light

As when the transformation is a happening
Faith is beckoned to perform her calling
Eyes may be blinded, eyes may be closed
But feet fixed firm on the ground below

It is a great unknown what the future holds
And in the now moment frightened, confounded, lost
If, in this transition moment, one gives up hope
he tries to shape the future based on moments past

Faith is shooed away like but a great nuisance
feet held firm no longer, the ground shakes,
Faith retaliates, she has some things to say
'Steady yourself, wanderer, don't be led astray
I am here to carry you along the way'
And just then as the tempestuous moment is past
One sees right into the blinding light
Clarity then strikes..

Wait and behold the beauty that lies
situated directly behind this charismatic, blinding light