Awash in waves of awe I: Awash in waves of awe I stand,
Your words like tides reshape the sand;
Each line a current, fierce yet true,
That pulls the heart and carries through.
The Hope: Blessed be the day
when the root grows downward
and the fruit reaches upward.
Blessed be the moment
when the dry branch blossoms. Blessed be the silence
that becomes song. Blessed be the ashes
that become life.
This poem is excellent (as: This poem is excellent (as yours always are), and that final stanza is a real powerhouse. It reminded me of the dry bones' song in T. S. Eliot's poem, Ash Wednesday. And any poem that can remind me of his great achievement is a wonderful poem, indeed.
That final line must have, in: That final line must have, in some form, heard by Bolshevik Lenin when he ordered the execution of Russia's royal family; and by the Bavarian housepainter when he was appointed chancellor of Germany in January, 1933.