I was ground down, bereft. Your sweet voice quietly called me.
I was erased away, hollow. You breathed strength and substance into my empty parts.
Now bitter distraction face I. How might I keep my thoughts upon your grace?
Let me be a cliff light, that travelers may come to this, your house, and have life breathed into them.
Let the beacon I tend quietly call across dark seas. Let my simple table be a place of revival.
Let the world heal.