My walk may seem absurd and my path, simply off.

I sometimes stumble but I can’t seem to trip or completely slip.

You may not get it, so here; I’ll fill you in.

I’m only following the Hand holding me.

 

Shattered to bits and let into the streets.

The several parts of me, even I could not identify with.

I found a Hand that picked my pieces and put me back together.

Now, I’m a pen in that same hand, writing pieces for the broken to find shelter.

 

With shaky feet and weary hands, I carry on.

At each point in time, I’m strengthened to do more.

I’ve come a long way with this Hand and Guide; I certainly can’t turn.

This journey of faith is one I must run.

 

Even when things are spiraling out of control.

His constant presence is an assurance that tightens my hold.

Though I constantly face the pains of being forged,

But I’ll rather be broken by the Hand I’m held by.

 

Well, this isn’t a part of the piece but a declaration that I’ll stick with Him and follow His hand.