The sorrow that I have carried is deep.
The rain clouds slowly appear one by one they form over head as I fear the
storm might be drier
I sit up and am overwhelmed by fear I see a man dieing for others, all
sisters and brothers.
This man is carrying a cross this cross is nor not near yet not lost.
This cross is a way for me to not fear this cross is away to be separated
from the lost.
Yet I am not alone for he is near.
The sorrow I have carried doesn't matter it is mere.
As I start to think this the rain clouds start to disappear.
My sorrow is mere.