The Window

Look outside, I see a brick church full of hope
Look closer, I see a line of colorful houses
Look closer, dark alleys and a funeral home
This is appropriate, even common, I suppose

I turn around and see all sorts of machines,
A family of believers clinging to peace
Proclaiming that they are still very blessed
And a man scared to death of death

Look away! look away!
The bricks catch the last light of day,
The houses scream their final hues,
The echos from the funeral home blues

The hope outside slowly fades
The souls inside lift up a shout of praise,
Not of victory over this illness,
But of victory over the grave

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