They say man is born for misery as the sparks fly upward. I won't deny it's true. Too many aches creep over me with each passing year--my back, my knees already growing creaky. Like black dust from this nearby factory too many disappointments gather on me, heroes fallen, friends hurt, hopes dashed, dreams laid aside in a quiet cabinet. Too many times I have seen tears, especially tears that I have caused, to deny our misery.
But somehow in the soot and ashes of our lives You live. Take us as a child again, grown old and cold into the gathering of Your arms. Wash us with the tears we wept, take frayed ends and mend and dust and wash and shine until Your own divine glows in our face again, until the sin and sadness we have brought ourselves are long forgotten beneath Your blue skies and sun. Remember our frail frames, our names written in the sand, for the wind is blowing.
Because we are indeed Your own give us enough sunshine to walk and reach our home. Give us enough shelter to find strength. And from there we stagger out under the stars and raise our hands, for the wind is joy, and the sand is warm, and even in the night there is enough light. We sit with the others you have sent around the firelight and raise our eyes to heaven as the sparks fly upward.