What a sunrise
This would be;
Like a lingering storm,
After a night
Of endless pain.

Love was weeping;
Amid the fallen leaves,
Of her tender hopes:
Silenced; like the song,
Of a wounded bird.

Anticipating the arrival
Of an endless summer;
Lo, and behold:
Here was winter;
In dark, and merciless severity.

For their great Love,
Seemed the fountain of life;
Yet that fountain was choked,
Along with their hearts,
On the crest of Gethsemane.

Then came the cry:
He is risen!
The tomb is empty!
A trumpet blast of Life;
Pealing through the dawn light.

A great burning Fire,
Streamed through the gloom;
Kindling life after life
Into blazing hope,
Once again.

First to the Magdalene;
Now Peter; now John;
Then two on the road;
To a remnant in darkness,
Wondrous Light was given.

Uncertainty ended,
The darkness passed,
And the troubling mists
Were lifted away,
As the Master emerged.

And the cry was sent forth:
“Arise, shine,
For thy light is come,
And the glory of the Lord,
Is risen upon thee!”