Breathe easy

Little heart, big heart.

Years are scattered, scattered wars.

Little time, big thoughts.

At the end of the line, what might be left is a drought.

So I offer you a moment of reprise.

A breather of clarity and for stress to die.

I am the hands on your shoulders, the cold stare into the endless. I am hope for the restless, comfort for the wounded, insight to the clouded, and a blade to the helpless.

I am yours my dear, so don't fret to ask my hand.

I will stand beside you, for as long as you won't stand.