Hands open to promise.

I looked out tonight from the dark place into the sky that turned from blue to grey and grey into night.

I looked at hands opened to a promise as a cup to be filled.

Surely these are the mountains moved.

We will rise up one day and call these sharp edges our salvation.

With forgivness that taste likes cupcakes.

Hallelujah we will declare.

So isn't there hope in the fighting?

And isn't there grace where we cant see it?

For surely there is love.