She stands alone wondering, fearing, doubting
Her thoughts cover her like an overwhelming sea
How can she endure with troubles and trials mounting
She walks slowly through the mist and feels living can never be.
"It's too hard," she cried, "I'm too weary."
"I lack the strength, I'm too war-torn."
"How can I continue in a life so dreary?"
"I must walk by myself, compelled to mourn."
Then a cool breeze swept across her grateful breast.
Her lips grew pale and cold, her face grew ghostly white.
She lifted her fingertips and against her lips she pressed.
Her spirit soared as her strife ended that very night.

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